


Birthright

by MrsJohnReese



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27624064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsJohnReese/pseuds/MrsJohnReese
Summary: Lacie Kessler had never been the type to believe in fairy tales, even as a little girl. But when her mother insists she come along to visit her cousin Nick in Portland, the world of fantasy will start to become more real than she ever thought was possible, just as it will lead her to discover pieces of herself that she never wanted to admit to out loud. Slow burn Renard/OC.
Relationships: Nick Burkhardt/Juliette Silverton, Rosalee Calvert/Monroe, Sean Renard/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29





	1. Beginnings

"Hey—Lacie, wait up!" A familiar voice called, effectively stalling the young woman's progress down the steps of the old brick building, and causing her to turn with her hand still upon the railing so that she could see exactly who it is that had halted her in her tracks, "Damn, you move fast!"

"I kind of have to move fast, Rick," Lacie replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she tilted her head back to get a better view of her much taller new companion, and managed a shrug before going on, "You saw what went down in there."

"What I saw was you kicking some serious ass."

"I don't know that I'd go that far."

"Oh really? Why not?"

"Because I messed up the steps. Twice."

"Well, you were always a bit too much of a perfectionist for your own good," Rick supplied, a startled huff escaping as the young woman at his side placed a well-aimed swat against his stomach as retaliation for his claim, "Hey! Just calling it like I see it."

"Yeah, well, you're calling it wrong."

"Keep telling yourself that, Lace. I'm never going to believe it."

"Not my problem," Lacie sing-songed, laughing at the all too predictable roll of the eyes the comment elicited from her companion, and falling into step beside him so they could descend the rest of the stairs together and head off down the main street towards their cars, "Anyway, shouldn't you have been paying more attention to your own routine?"

"I could do that thing in my sleep."

"Wow. Glad someone's confident."

"You really should be too, you know," Rick admonished, nudging Lacie gently in the side, and grinning proudly when she appeared to have anticipated the gesture, and held herself in such a stance that she hardly even swayed in response, "You're good."

"Well thank you. Even if I'm not entirely sure I believe you, thank you."

"You're welcome. So, ah—how's—how's Mom doing?"

"She's—doing about as well as can be expected," Lacie sighed, her expression dampening a bit as she wet her lips with her tongue, and crossed her arms over her chest to ward off the chill Fall breeze that swept along the street as they stepped out from beneath the cover of the buildings nestled around the one they had just left and headed across the street, "Chemo's taking a toll this time around, though. More than it was before."

"You know that if you two ever need anything—"

"We can call you. I know, Rick. I just—I just don't know that I'm ready to give up my time alone with her like that, you know? I know it sounds selfish, but—"

"It does not sound selfish. It makes complete sense," Rick cut in, placing a comforting hand upon Lacie's shoulder, and giving it a small squeeze despite the tension he could feel in the young woman's muscles as a result, "You want to have all the time with your mom you can get, given the circumstances. I get it."

"Well maybe—maybe you could come over for dinner sometime," Lacie suggested, peering up at her friend, and hoping that in spite of the apprehension inherent in her tone, he would see that the offer was sincere, "That is, if you're willing to risk my cooking."

"I think I can take that risk."

"Your funeral."

"Then I'll die a happy man," Rick teased, happy that his quip had succeeded in making his companion laugh, though her green eyes didn't exactly echo the sentiment entirely on their own. In truth, he had absolutely no clue how she was even still standing, what with a more than rigorous course schedule, extra-curriculars, and tending to her sick mother with a father that was long out of the picture on top of it all. But yet, here she was, apparently capable of summoning the faintest smiles for her friend, whether or not she was truly in the mood for it, and that meant more to Rick than Lacie would ever know.

"Let me know when?" He went on, coming to a stop beside Lacie's car, and leaning on the edge of the roof above the passenger seat while his friend skirted around to open the driver's side door and stow her purse and bookbag inside, "I can bring a dish to pass."

"You cook?"

"Well—technically, my mom would be the one making it."

"Ah. So, the truth comes out," Lacie quipped, laughing again as Rick gave her a good-natured roll of the eyes, only to find that laughter dying in her throat as she watched her friend's expression turn from jovial exasperation, to a wary sort of curiosity instead as he gazed across the street at something she clearly had not seen when they arrived at her car, "Rick? What—what is it?"

"That—that man. He's been watching us since we turned onto the street."

"What?"

"Don't—you looked. You're never supposed to look," Rick hissed, watching as Lacie turned to glance across the street at the balding man in question, her sudden tension apparent even from the slight distance between them standing on opposite sides of the car, "Lace, come on, I think you should probably head home."

"Yeah. Yeah, I think you're right," Lacie agreed, keeping an eye on the man in question, who was now doing his very best to attempt concealing himself behind a concrete pillar, though he had not succeeded in doing so before she could notice him in the first place, "You'll—you'll call me when you get home?"

"Sure thing. Talk soon."

Partially assured by the response, Lacie slid into the driver's seat of her car, and kept her eyes on Rick for a moment as he turned to walk away, her teeth biting into her lower lip as she reached down on instinct to put the key in the ignition and bring the car to life. A glance back at the man in question showed her that he had apparently disappeared, a thrill of apprehension snapping through her veins as she whipped back around to locate Rick once again. Something did not seem right about the situation at all, her skin prickling with gooseflesh as she put the car in drive, and maneuvered into the already growing throngs of traffic headed home for the day. But as she knew very well she would be no good to herself, or her mother if she was preoccupied by something that may not even mean a thing, Lacie did her best to redirect her thoughts to other things, her shoulders flexing just a bit in an effort at relieving the tension between them while she drove off in the direction of home.

With any luck, she would never see the man again, and what happened, or didn't happen today would be a thing of the past.

…

Later that evening, Lacie stood up from her desk and flicked off the lamp beside it, her muscles flexing as she stretched, arms extended toward the ceiling until her spine emitted a satisfactory low pop in response. Allowing her arms to drop back towards her side, it was not long before Lacie was reaching forward to grab the empty plate, and glass of water she had been nursing all night before turning to head out of her bedroom door. And although she knew she risked waking her mother, a habitual light sleeper, by peeking into the den to see if she was still sprawled beneath the thin blanket on the sofa, Lacie found herself doing exactly that, regardless, a soft smile drawing up at the corners of her mouth as she watched the gentle rise and fall of her mother's chest for a few moments, before heading further down the hall towards the kitchen, instead.

In motions so familiar they had become instinct, Lacie rinsed off her plate and glass, and stowed them in the small, stand-alone dishwasher they owned, the soft thud of the door swinging closed once again echoing in the room as she turned on a heel and headed back down the hall. Another brief glance in the den showed her that her mother was still fast asleep, whatever book she had been reading still half-opened on her lap. But, just as Lacie was prepared to turn from the entryway she hovered in to head back towards her bedroom to get some sleep, herself, she found herself distracted by the slightest motions spied from the corner of her eye…

A shadow was lingering behind the curtain of the window behind the sofa, the sight of which made Lacie's blood run cold as she froze on the spot, trying to figure out what to do.

Before she was entirely aware of it, Lacie found that she was moving towards the front door, her muscles tense as she reached for the knob, and slowly turned the knob after ensuring it was unlocked. It would have been a lie to pretend that some small part of her was not very much aware that her actions were foolish, though she did not seem entirely capable of stopping herself, regardless. At the last possible moment, she found herself reaching for the small shovel kept by the front door so that someone could clear the walk and front porch whenever it snowed, her fingers curling around the worn wooden handle as she cautiously stepped outside the door. A soft rustling reached her ears from around the corner of the house, where she had seen the shadow lurking beside the window. And before she could think better of it, Lacie forced herself to head off in that direction, her grip on the shovel tightening with every step she took until her knuckles had gone white with the strain of holding on so securely.

With her breath in her throat, Lacie rounded the corner, ready to lash out with the shovel at any moment, only to find her eyes going wide with shock as she realized she was very much alone. Her heart still pounding, as though expecting to be attacked at any moment, the young woman moved as slowly as she could towards the window of the den in hopes that if the source of the shadow were still around, he or she would not hear her approach. But as she drew nearer, it soon became abundantly clear that she was, in fact, the only one in the vicinity, whether she had been at the outset or not, her teeth coming to dig into the skin of her lower lip as she slowly lowered the shovel, and stepped closer to the window to see if she would find any indication of someone having stood outside it. She did not want to believe that she had imagined the whole thing—that it had simply been the result of exhaustion working its way through her ability to distinguish reality from fantasy. But just as she had been preparing to turn and head back into the house, Lacie found her gaze once again distracted, this time by an unfamiliar marking on the siding of her home beneath the window ledge that most certainly had not been there, before.

Whether or not she was relieved at having tangible proof that she had not imagined the presence of someone idling outside her home, Lacie would have been a liar to pretend that the symbol branded into the siding did not cause her heart to stutter within her chest, her feet carrying her backwards while a shrill cry for her mother escaped her lips…

Whatever that symbol was, it certainly could not mean anything good.

…


	2. Momentum

A shiver coursed down Lacie's spine as she peered around at her surroundings, the night air chilly enough to cause her breath to become visible in small puffs as she turned in a slow circle trying to get her bearings. For what felt like ages, now, she had been waking up in this exact spot, or somewhere similar, in the middle of a dense selection of trees, with nothing to give her any light to see by save for the stars overhead. No matter which way she turned, she could not recognize a single thing about her location, save for the fact that it seemed to be the very same, each and every time her mind deposited her here.

It was as though she were in the middle of some half-witted attempt at a joke, and regardless of anything she tried to get out, she just could not seem to escape.

Still, she was determined to try, no matter how foolish the thought may be in reality, one hand extending in front of her to attempt to push aside some of the foliage in her path as she began to move. As they always did, bits and pieces of twigs caught at her arms and legs, scraping against the bare skin of her forearms, and snagging her jeans so that her pace was slowed far more than she truly wanted. She could feel the almost oppressive weight of the trees pressing in around her, as though the forest were actually trying to keep her inside, rather than permitting her to break free. If she focused for too long on that very fact, she knew, she would soon be incapable of breathing at all. And so, in spite of her trepidation, Lacie forced herself to continue moving forward, her eyes straining to see anything in the sparse light that trickled through to the forest floor, knowing that if she stopped, even once, she would be hard-pressed to start moving again.

As gooseflesh prickled against the skin of her arms in response to the chill in the air, Lacie continued to move through the dense undergrowth, her teeth absently digging into her lips as she tried and failed to keep the noise she made to a minimum. Of course, there was no way of stopping the rustling of the leaves on their branches as she passed. Not really. But Lacie still seemed incapable of stifling the hiss that passed her lips as a particularly stubborn branch snapped from the pressure of her leg attempting to free itself from its grasp, her entire body going rigid as she waited the obligatory few moments to determine if anything else would make a sound in response to her presence.

It was always the same, she thought—the relief brought about by complete and total silence, until the rustling coming from somewhere at her back broke all hope of remaining unnoticed by whatever else dwelled within the forest into splinters at her feet.

Unlike every other time before, however, this time Lacie forced herself to resist the instinctive urge to run, instead turning to face the source of the unwelcome sound, and bracing herself for what she now knew would come for her. It was just a dream, after all. Nothing here could hurt her, or so she chose to believe…

She did not dare to think of what might stand to happen, if she was wrong.

Determined to remain steeled in light of that knowledge, Lacie held her ground as the rustling drew nearer, her muscles tensing as she forced her eyes to fix upon the spot in the tree line that she knew would eventually break to reveal the one who followed her. In dreams past, she had never managed a clear look at its face, or at least nothing that lasted long enough to discern more than the idea that, whatever it was, it was not fully human. A small part of her knew such a thought was ridiculous, of course, though that realization did not seem to be enough on its own to dissuade her from thinking it, regardless. She could practically feel the nervous energy radiating through her frame as she persisted in standing rooted to the spot, her heart jackhammering in her chest as she waited for what was to come.

What she saw, however, was far different from everything she could ever have imagined, even had she tried her very best to do precisely that.

In the darkness that was only barely broken by the light of the stars above her, peeking down through the leaves on the trees, Lacie could see the glint of shimmering green eyes. She could hear the rustling growing still louder as whatever this thing was barreled towards her, while a low rumbling growl reached her ears. But unlike so many other times before, when she had remained motionless until the creature succeeded in bowling her over, this time Lacie managed to persuade her limbs to move just enough so that she might dart to the side just as it made to pass, a low hiss rushing between her teeth as the sensation of a slashing cut stung against her forearm, and she dropped her gaze down to see blood beginning to well upon the skin.

Wincing at the sight, Lacie forced herself to look away as she heard scuffling sounds and what might have been an enraged groan as whatever it was that had found her realized it had failed in completion of its task, and she still stood in spite of its apparent effort. The slight shift in her position allowed her to see just a bit better, in the shaft of moonlight that drifted in through the trees, and fell over her shoulder to light the bracken beneath her feet. As the thing that shared the enclosed space with her turned around, Lacie caught sight of what could only have been matted brown fur. But before she could come up with any sort of logical explanation for the reality of how she could not even begin to place what sort of animal this may be, when she had always had a knack for such things before, after spending day after day of her summer vacations pouring over photos and books featuring various types of wildlife with her mother at her side, she found that whatever this was had started to hurl itself in her direction once again, instinct prompting her to cast about the ground for something—anything—she might defend herself with, only to come up with nothing at all that might help.

Left with nothing to do but run, Lacie turned and bolted in the direction opposite that from which she had come, a frown marring her features as she realized the sounds created by her own haphazard crash through the wayward trees and shrubs effectively prohibited her from discerning exactly how much of a lead she had on the thing that followed after her. With such a thought in mind, she forced herself to slow her pace just a bit, her ears straining for any hint of the rustling that had assailed them mere moments before.

Of course, that seemed to be precisely the thing that proved to be her undoing, as a scream erupted from her throat in time with the sudden collision of a much larger body with her own as it drove her to the ground and tore the remaining wind that had not been stolen by her cry from her lungs.

Pinned beneath the much more significant weight, Lacie did her best to scrabble around for something—anything she could use to attempt to get the creature away from her, the sensation of what could only have been claws tearing at her clothing hurrying her movements as her hands cast about on the forest floor for anything bearing even the smallest of sharp edges. For a moment she truly feared she would come up empty, her heart hammering against her ribcage as time seemed to slow to a stand-still. But soon, her fingers found purchase on what felt like a rock that had been weathered down to a somewhat narrow point at one end, her grip tightening on the object as she threw her head back in hopes of connecting with her attacker's jaw, the low growl that came about as a result of such a thing giving her ample proof that she had just earned herself a split second to squirm around until she was flat on her back while the hand holding the rock snapped up to collide with the general vicinity of the creature's temple.

Whether the blow was truly significant, or simply surprising enough to force her attacker away, Lacie was not about to waste the opportunity presented by the body lurching to the side, her arms shifting to pull herself to a semi-seated position so that she might grant herself enough distance to regain her footing once again. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she realized it had started to rain, the droplets filtering in from the sky above, and making the undergrowth of leaves and twigs slippery to the touch.

Perhaps that was the reason her attempt at pushing herself back into a run failed so quickly, another surprised shriek escaping as she managed a few quick steps before tumbling back to the ground, her body twisting in an attempt at avoiding a collision between a nearby tree trunk, only to fall short when the act caused the object to ram into her shoulder as she fell, instead of her skull, and the sharp pop that broke through the air prompted her to bite down on a ragged groan.

With one hand clutching her shoulder, Lacie tried and failed to push herself away as the thing that had come after her drew nearer once more, her panic only growing as the dim glowing of its eyes seemed to shine even brighter now that it sensed victory in the air. In the scuffle, she had lost track of the rock she had found, though even now she knew that it would do her little good. And although survival instinct all but demanded she do something to keep herself alive, Lacie soon found herself paralyzed by the sight of the creature crouching down before her, its teeth bared in a snarl while one clawed hand reached forward to slice at her throat…

…

Lacie woke in a cold sweat, her breaths coming in short gasps as she bolted upright in bed, one hand resting over her heart as she struggled to regain her bearings. She could see the beginnings of sunlight attempting to come in through her windows, and she could hear the faintest sounds of rustling in the kitchen down the hall that likely suggested her mother had started her daily routine already, in spite of her daughter's pleas to allow her to help. But somehow, even in spite of the instinctive desire she felt to venture out of her bedroom to assist, Lacie seemed completely powerless to persuade her limbs to move, her entire body starting to tremble as she dropped both hands to her sides to fist in the fabric of her sheets.

It was just a dream…

But if it was only a dream, why had it felt so real?

Shaking her head to ward off the unwelcome question, Lacie forced herself to set about the task of committing to getting out of bed, her hands still trembling as she shoved the sheets away from her legs, and swung them over the edge of the bed. A wince passed over her features as she placed her feet on the ground, and realized with a start that the flooring had become quite cold, in the night. And although the realization had prompted her brow to furrow, as she knew full-well that she had turned up the heat just prior to turning in the night before, Lacie forced herself to stand and move towards her bedroom door, instinct causing her to reach for her robe and tug it about her shoulders while she moved into the hall and padded towards the kitchen where the sounds of her mother's movements still reached her ears.

"Mom?"

"In here, sweetheart," Marie's voice called, the soft sound of the whistle on the tea kettle kept atop the stove slowly rising while Lacie reached the kitchen doorway, just as her mother moved to lift it away and pour the boiling water into a cup on the countertop nearby, "Tea?"

"Sounds—sounds good, Mom. Thanks," Lacie replied, stepping over towards the table, and pulling a chair back so that she could take a seat, once she realized that in spite of how tired she had appeared the night before, her mother seemed far stronger at the moment—strong enough to carry two teacups simultaneously without her stamina flagging at all, and place them both upon the table before taking a seat, herself, "You seem—better, today."

"I am better. At least for now. Which is fortunate, seeing as you seem quite a bit worse for wear."

"You noticed that, then."

"I'm your mother, Lacie. I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't notice."

"I suppose I should have expected that," Lacie mused, wrapping her fingers around the cup of tea her mother had given her, and savoring the warmth that seeped into the cold digits almost immediately in response, "But I don't want you to worry about something that's—"

"Something that's what?"

"Probably nothing."

"If it's troubling you enough that you're actually dancing around the idea of telling me about it, it seems fairly significant," Marie suggested, regarding her daughter with a quirked brow, and suppressing a faint smile as she noted how Lacie's lips had pursed into some semblance of a frown at the prospect of being so easily figured out. For a moment or two, it almost seemed as though she truly intended to hold back, the doubt so apparent in her eyes leaving nothing to the imagination when it came to her apprehension over giving voice to whatever had arisen to plague her thoughts. But before Marie could say or do anything further to persuade her daughter to come clean, Lacie seemed to take the initiative herself, a sigh escaping as she lifted the cup of tea to her lips and took a small sip as though the act would grant her the courage to do what she truly did not seem to want to do, at all.

"It's just—it was a dream, that's all," Lacie began, aware of how her mother's expression had suddenly shifted from one of simple concern, to something altogether different, though she could come up with no logical reason why. In truth, it was more than a little disconcerting, as some small part of her had attempted to convince herself that the dream truly was not all that significant at all. But something in the way her mother was looking at her in that moment seemed to indicate that her hope would not come to fruition after all, a spasm of dread snaking its way down her spine as she forced herself to meet her mother's gaze head-on, "What?"

"What sort of a dream?"

"Not a very good one."

"Explain."

"Mom, I think this is a little excessive for a simple nightmare—"

"Why don't you allow me to be the judge of that?" Marie persisted, reaching for one of Lacie's hands for her own, and giving it a small squeeze in hopes it would give her daughter the reassurance she needed to come clean.

After all, she knew better than most what certain dreams might mean, and if Lacie were experiencing them now, then things were coming to fruition far more quickly than she had ever wanted to believe.

"Lacie—"

"Okay. Okay, I'll tell you," The young woman relented, unable to resist the slight tug amusement made at the corners of her lips despite her lingering apprehension over disclosing anything at all, "I was—I was in the forest, and I was running."

"Where in the forest?"

"That's just it. I have no idea. Every time I'm in the dream, when I wake up, I'm already smack dab in the middle, with no way of knowing how far I've come."

"You've had this dream before. How many times?"

"I don't—I don't really know. Three or four times, at least."

"And it's the same. Each time?" Marie inquired, noting how the urgent cast to her tone had caused Lacie's skin to pale rather significantly, in spite of how clear it was that she was attempting to keep her trepidation a secret, "Lacie you need to tell me exactly what you see in these dreams."

"It's dark, so I—I can't really see much. Or, I can't see much that makes sense, at any rate."

"What do you see?"

"Green eyes. Fur or—or something like it. Huge teeth."

"I see."

"See—see what, exactly?" Lacie asked, hating how her voice seemed to crack in mid-sentence, and yet finding herself capable of ignoring it in favor of endeavoring to determine what it was about her mother's expression that had her so wary. It was as though she knew something that she was not giving up, despite the fact that they had always been forthcoming with one another before. But of course, just as Lacie had been prepared to question her mother about that realization, she found herself thwarted in the act, her gaze following after Marie as she rose quickly from her position at the table, and abandoned her tea in favor of moving towards the phone hanging on the wall beside the sink, instead, "Mom? What are—what are you doing?"

"Making a phone call. You need to get some of your things together. Put them in your overnight bag."

"I—what? Mom, this doesn't make any sense."

"It doesn't have to, Lacie. What I need, right now, is for you to trust me. I'll explain everything when I can," Marie informed, turning for just a moment from the act of dialing the phone to glance at her daughter, and noting that her expression was just managing to shift from openly fearful, to something more akin to cautiously apprehensive as Lacie fought to control her emotions as best she could. It was obvious she was out of her element, even though she was clearly doing everything she could to hide that very fact on her own. But in order to fully explain what she believed was happening, Marie knew she would be better served by killing two metaphorical birds with one stone, and to do that, they needed to make arrangements to travel to Portland as soon as they could.

She did not have much time…

…


	3. Knife's Edge

"Is that Rick?" Marie inquired, glancing away from the road ahead of them for just long enough to regard her daughter's insistently chirping cell phone, that, surprisingly enough, Lacie seemed more than a little determined to ignore, "You might want to get that before he thinks you've been kidnapped."

"I'll just—I'll call him back later," Lacie replied, fiddling with the device held in her hand until the shrilling was silenced, and her best friend's face disappeared from the screen altogether, "Assuming I ever do figure out where we're going, of course."

"Portland."

"What?"

"We're going to Portland," Marie informed, keeping her eyes on the road, in spite of the fact that she could sense her daughter's gaze fixing itself upon the side of her face in open disbelief in response to her words.

"We're going all the way to Portland, just because I had a dream?"

"We are going to Portland because it's the only way to make sure you are as prepared as you can be for what's coming."

"And what exactly is that?" Lacie demanded, her voice cracking mid-sentence, and giving away exactly how taut her nerves seemed to be, despite her attempts at keeping that fact from her mother for as long as she could, "What's coming?"

"I can't tell you that. Not yet."

"Mom!"

"Do you remember what I told you before we left?" Marie asked her daughter, once again risking a glance towards Lacie, and noting that she appeared to have paled significantly, while her hands had curled into fists upon her lap, "That I needed you to trust me?"

"I do."

"That still applies. I will tell you everything I can, Lacie, but I can't do that until we get to Portland."

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know," Lacie quipped, regarding her mother with an expression that she fervently hoped was more determined than fearful, and finding herself at least a little relieved that her mother's answering expression was at the very least understanding of the predicament they appeared to face, and the distress it could cause as a result, "Can you at least tell me what the deal is with the trailer?"

"Not until—"

"Until we get to Portland. Right. And what, exactly, is so special about Portland?"

"Your cousin," Marie supplied, aware of the extent of her daughter's incredulous expression even without turning to look at her head-on, "This involves Nick, too."

"Because of the dreams?"

"Because of what is coming."

Knowing that she was not likely to get anything more from her mother as far as it pertained to an explanation, Lacie only managed a simple nod in response, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as she shifted in the passenger seat, and tilted her head to gaze out of the window at the passing scenery, instead. It would have been a lie to say she was not able to enjoy the prospect of seeing her cousin again, as the two had been able to exchange nothing more than texts and emails for just over a year prior. But the circumstances of this particular visit still proved more than a little unnerving, particularly in light of her mother's deliberate evasiveness when it came to providing any sort of concrete answer for why they were venturing to Portland in the first place.

She hated giving in to the sense of foreboding that had been plaguing her ever since climbing into her mother's car, but try though she might to avoid it, Lacie could not entirely ignore the reality of the feeling that somehow, everything in her life was about to change, whether she wanted it to, or not.

…

"I spoke to your advisor at school," Marie began, finally breaking the silence that had taken form between herself and her daughter as she turned onto the familiar street that would eventually lead them to her nephew's home, and finding herself pleased to note that Lacie's expression had turned from pensive, to mildly startled in response, "About the possibility of you continuing your coursework remotely. He seemed to think it was a plausible idea."

"I'm sure it would be, if we were staying in Portland for a while. But this is—it's only temporary, right?"

"Lacie—"

"What, are—are we moving here for good?" Lacie stammered, snapping her gaze from the houses lining both sides of the street to look at her mother directly, and frowning as she registered the uncharacteristic uncertainty in her expression as a result, "Mom, what is going on?"

"We need to be here. For however long it takes to make sure you, and your cousin are safe," Marie said, pulling into the driveway immediately on their right, and registering Lacie's resultant dissatisfied huff before putting the car in park, and turning to face her daughter while one hand reached across the console to halt her from simply hopping out of the car before she could finish, "And we can say nothing of this to Juliette."

"You don't think she might ask questions? I mean, I know I would, if my boyfriend's aunt and cousin turned up on my doorstep out of the blue—"

"Whether she does or doesn't, we can't let her know what this is really about."

"Should be easy enough. I mean, given that I don't know what it's really about, either," Lacie stated, lifting a brow in response to her mother's nonplussed expression, though the gesture seemed to have very little effect on her apparent resolve to keep her in the dark, "I'm sorry, Mom. I know I'm giving you a—a hard time about this, but—"

"You're doing exactly what I would be doing, if I were in your shoes, sweetheart. I understand."

"Really?"

"Really," Marie confirmed, giving her daughter's hand a squeeze, before relinquishing it altogether, and turning to reach for her cane where it was stowed in the back seat before elaborating further, "You're not going to be going through this alone."

Unable to do anything save for nod as her mother exited the car, and shut the driver's side door behind her, Lacie moved to do the same, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she moved to grab her bag from the back seat of the vehicle, before jogging to catch up to her mother just as she reached the steps leading up to the front porch.

"Easy, speed-racer. Let me help you with that," She suggested, linking her arm through her mother's, and giving a gentle squeeze in hopes that it would persuade the older woman to slow down, and take the steps at a pace more appropriate to a woman carrying a cane, "You and I both know Nick will kill me if I let you hurt yourself on his front steps."

"Kill seems a touch excessive, don't you think?"

"Maybe. But personally, I'm not willing to chance it, either way."

"I think we both know he adores you too much to do that," Marie chided, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she recalled the numerous times both Nick and Lacie would fall back on one another when they all lived together after his parents had died, "You were always tagging along after him, wanting to know what he was doing."

"So, what you're saying is, he only put up with me because he had a thing for hero worship?"

"Not at all. Do us a favor, and ring the doorbell?"

Nodding in response to her mother's request, Lacie momentarily loosened her hold upon Marie's arm in favor of leaning forward to press the bell situated just to the side of the front door. She would have been a fool to pretend she was not grateful for the fact that, in spite of her frustration over being kept in the dark regarding why they were here to begin with, they had managed to find a tentative sort of truce, at least for the present. And so, even in the face of the seemingly endless questions that ricocheted through her mind while they waited for someone to answer the door, Lacie reminded herself that she would likely be better served heeding her mother's request, and staying silent about everything that troubled her while Juliette was around, her expression hopefully only indicating an eagerness to be back with a part of her family she had not seen in quite a while.

After all, from what she could recall of her cousin's girlfriend, Juliette had always been more perceptive than most, and Lacie would not have it said that she gave the woman an easy way in when it came to asking questions about something Marie clearly wanted her to know nothing about.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Lacie found herself momentarily brought back to the present by the sound of a slight squeak as the front door opened, and a red-haired woman greeted them with a startled smile.

"Hey, you two—I didn't—I didn't know you were coming!"

"Sorry about that. I wasn't exactly aware until we were most of the way here, myself," Marie apologized, moving forward to draw Juliette into a warm embrace, and casting a significant glance towards her daughter in response to the skeptically raised brow, before going on, "I'm more forgetful than I'd like to be, these days."

"Don't even worry about it. You know Nick and I would love to have you stay, any time."

"I'm glad to hear that. We would never want to be a burden."

"You wouldn't. Ever," Juliette assured, relinquishing her hold on Marie, and stepping back so that the older woman could pass through the door, and she could embrace her daughter instead, "How's she doing? How are you doing?"

"I'm okay. Chemo's been taking a lot out of her, though," Lacie admitted, pulling back from Juliette, and watching carefully as her mother moved through the foyer, and towards the direction of where she seemed to recall the kitchen might be, before elaborating any further, "Which is why I'm kind of surprised we made the trip here to begin with."

"Did something happen?"

"I—not really? I think she just wanted a visit, is all."

"Well we're happy to have you. How do you feel about spaghetti for dinner? I'm already in the process of getting it ready—"

"You're sure you didn't know we were coming? That happens to be my favorite. Mom's, too."

"Let's just call it a lucky guess," Juliette replied, stepping to the side once again so that Lacie could pass through the front door, and closing it behind the two of them, while the other woman turned in a slow circle to refamiliarize herself with her surroundings, "How's the school thing going? We were both so upset we couldn't make it out for your graduation—"

"You didn't miss much, honestly. It was pretty much your run of the mill event," Lacie said, shrugging as Juliette fell into step beside her and the two of them maneuvered out of the foyer, and into the kitchen, only to find Marie already ensconced at the small table in the corner in the process, "And I've been taking online courses over the summer to try and get a jump on earning some credits, too."

"Wow. Guess Nick wasn't kidding when he said you'd always been an over-achiever."

"Not really, no. You need any help with dinner?"

"Is that your way of trying to keep the subject away from school?" Juliette inquired, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she regarded Lacie for a moment or two in silence, her amusement becoming apparent as Lacie managed a single nod before opting to reply aloud, instead.

"It might be. I get the feeling there are far too many people that think all I do is study."

"That would be because most times, it's true," Marie proposed, a soft laugh escaping as she caught on to her daughter's almost immediate roll of the eyes, though that did not stop her from going on, regardless, "I was hoping you might be able to help with that, now that you mention it, Juliette."

"I can certainly try."

"Am I still allowed to help with dinner, even if you do?" Lacie questioned, more than a little impressed with her mother's apparent ability to come up with a sufficient distraction on the fly, though she did what she could to keep that fact from showing in her expression as she simultaneously realized Juliette had reached for a bowl of tomatoes, and was now handing them her way, "I'll take that as a yes?"

"Absolutely," Juliette agreed, reaching for the cutting board and a knife after Lacie had taken the bowl and placed it upon the table so that she could hand them over as well, "Want something to drink while you work?"

"Just water, if that's okay."

"Sure thing."

"Thank you," Lacie went on, exchanging a look with her mother, and not missing the encouraging nod that Marie gave in response, before turning her attention to the tomato she had just plucked from the bowl, so that she could begin the task of cutting it into pieces without accidentally losing a finger in the process, "Really, I—we appreciate this."

"And it's not a problem at all," Juliette assured, returning with two glasses of water, and placing them on the table, so that she could take a seat herself, not long thereafter, "Nick's family is my family, so it looks like the two of you are stuck with me, whether you really wanted to be or not."

Though she managed to give Juliette a smile in response to words that were so clearly meant to be encouraging, Lacie would have been a liar to pretend she was not rather fervently hoping that her cousin's girlfriend did not have cause to regret those words, before the end.

…

Detective Nick Burkhardt stepped through the front door of his home with some amount of trepidation, one hand lingering inside his jacket pocket atop the velvet box he had obtained from the jeweler's earlier that very afternoon. In spite of how he had tried everything he could to avoid it, it seemed his thoughts continued to insist upon straying back to whatever it was that he had seen just outside the shop. It was inexplicable. Insane, even, and made even more so by the fact that Hank had been looking at the very same woman, and hadn't seen a thing. Then, there had been the man at the precinct—yet another thing that no one seemed able to see—

If he had not been clutching the tiny box in his jacket pocket as though it were some sort of lifeline, he might have actually started to think he was about to walk into his home, only to see more of the same. But of course, that was impossible. Tonight was about moving forward in his relationship with Juliette, not remaining trapped in memories that might be nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him as a result of a surge in nerves.

Now, if he could only focus on that, instead of whatever he may or may not have seen, perhaps the evening would not be as much of an embarrassment as Hank had seemed to believe it would be when he left the precinct and headed for home.

Determined to at least try to make a significant effort in that regard, Nick moved through the foyer, and towards the kitchen where he thought he could detect the slightest hints of garlic in the air, his footsteps echoing in the otherwise quiet hall, and called Juliette's name in hopes of dislodging the apprehension that appeared to have lodged itself somewhere between his chest, and his throat.

"Juliette?"

When no reply was forthcoming, Nick continued to move towards the kitchen, instinct prompting him to remove his hand from his jacket pocket in favor of allowing it to hover over the holster housing his weapon, instead. Suddenly, he found he was cursing himself for not paying better attention before stepping inside, as his preoccupation had not allowed him to discern whether or not there were any sign of a third party having entered the home prior to his own arrival. But before he could determine exactly what he would do, if an intruder were somewhere in the home, he found himself distracted by a familiar, excited squeal, and the sound of running footsteps as a swath of blonde hair flew his way, and his cousin collided with him in the doorway to the kitchen while her arms wound around his torso.

"Nick!"

"H—hey, Lace-wing," He replied, glancing down at his cousin as she peered back at him, her expression every bit as eager to see him as it had been when they were growing up, in spite of the way in which age had matured her features into something far more similar to the pictures he had seen of his aunt when she was young, herself, "What are—what are you doing here?"

"A girl needs an excuse to visit her favorite cousin?"

"Not really, no."

"Good. Because you might just be stuck with us. And Juliette already said that was okay," Lacie supplied, offering her cousin a saccharine grin, before regarding him with a look that she could only hope would demonstrate exactly how grateful she was for that very fact, in spite of her teasing, "So hopefully you—don't mind?"

"God, no, Lace, of course I don't," Nick promised, keeping one arm looped around his cousin's slender shoulders, and effectively dragging her along with him into the kitchen to catch sight of his aunt seated at the table, while Juliette dried out a wine glass, and set it down on the counter, as well, "Aunt Marie—"

"Come here. Give us a hug."

Moving forward to do exactly that, Nick was soon surprised by the strength so inherent in Marie's grip as she embraced him, her body shifting just a bit so that she could lean up towards his ear before whispering a single request so softly that Juliette, and perhaps even Lacie as well, would not be able to hear.

"We need to talk."

A nod was the only acknowledgment Nick dared to make in response to the hushed words, his expression bemused, to say the least, despite his best efforts to keep that fact hidden as he pulled away. He knew, somehow, that whatever it was that Marie wanted to discuss, it had very little to do with her own health, despite her pale appearance, and the slight tremble he felt in her limbs as she pulled away to sit at the table once again. But of course, he was not anywhere near foolish enough to remark on that observation, instead choosing to take the open chair beside his cousin, and wait for his aunt to determine the proper time frame for the aforementioned 'talk'.

If the barely masked expression of worry that kept flittering across Lacie's features was any indication, it would not be a discussion he was likely to forget any time soon.

…

Sheltered behind the cover provided by a thick tree beside the sidewalk across the street from the home he observed, the man watched as the trio moved farther away, his eyes trained on the woman in the middle, and the girl to her right as he waited enough time to allow them to gain sufficient headway, before following along in their wake. The woman, he knew, would be a significant adversary, even in her current condition, leaning upon the man as they walked along, as though dependent upon him for support. But the girl—

Even with his time spent following her, he could not tell if she were more like her mother in abilities, or if she would not be a threat at all.

Either way, he knew he would be better served by eliminating the both of them, and sooner rather than later. If that meant that the man fell in the skirmish as well, then so be it. It would not have been the first time an innocent life was ended by his hands. And so, steeled by the idea, the man continued to move after the trio, a growl beginning to rumble low in his throat as the sound of their hushed conversation reached his ears.

"The misfortune of our family is already passing to the two of you."

The girl must not have been the only one.

Withdrawing the scythe from its position strapped to his back, the man hurried along after the three he had been tracking, a grin stretching across his lips as he drew nearer to their location. They had come to a stop it seemed, in the middle of the sidewalk, the man, and the girl facing their older counterpart, while her back remained to him, as a result. And, before he could lose the potential advantage that such a stance might provide, the man broke into a run, his lips curling in an open snarl while he lifted the scythe and prepared to strike.

Once the woman was dead, the other two would be dealt with easily enough…

…


	4. Dissonance

"Mom, you're not making any sense," Lacie protested, risking a glance towards Nick, and noting that he seemed every bit as baffled by what her mother had just said as she was, herself, "We can see things other people can't? The misfortune of our family? What does—what does that even mean?"

"It means you need to be prepared now, for what your life is going to become. This isn't—Lacie, you and Nick are going to need each other now, more than ever."

"Mom, come on—"

"Once this has all been put in motion, there's no way to stop it," Marie cut in, her eyes catching her daughter's, and causing her expression to soften just a bit as she saw the very real fear that was so apparent therein, "I'm sorry. I thought that we would have more time."

"More time for what? Look, Aunt Marie, I'm sorry, but this is all a little—a little nuts, don't you think?"

"More than you know. When I saw my first, it brought me to my knees. I didn't leave my bed for a week."

"When you saw your first what, Mom?" Lacie demanded, a wince passing over her features as she realized her voice had cracked mid-sentence, though that was not enough to stop her from pressing on, regardless, "If you want me to believe any of this, you're going to have to give me something to go on."

"It's not exactly that simple, sweetheart. None of this is," Marie cautioned, risking a glance at their surroundings to ensure that they would not be at risk of one of Nick's neighbors happening upon them, only to freeze as she caught sight of the vehicle parked just around the corner a few feet away. In spite of her fervent hope that it did not mean what she feared, Marie knew that her hopes of being able to explain things to both her daughter, and her nephew, before they were thrown into the deep end were rather rapidly fading away.

The reaper that had been tracking her had found them in Portland, after all.

"He's here."

"Who?" Nick asked, brow furrowed as he took in the dramatic change to his aunt's features, and felt Lacie go tense beside him at the same time. It was apparent that Lacie was struggling with this, every bit as much as he was. But before he could make any effort at discerning exactly how best to go about making things just a bit clearer for the both of them, Marie pulled a knife from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes, her body shifting in a way that seemed almost instinctively to shield Lacie from view, while a man leapt at her mere seconds later, and Nick was forced to tug his cousin behind him as she attempted to join the fray.

Had he ever even suspected Lacie of being capable of landing the punch to his jaw that forced him to stumble backwards, and enabled her to attempt to aid her mother, he might have opted for a different method, entirely…

…

"Lace—Lacie! Come on, you need to wake up—"

Lacie did not want to wake. Not when the cocoon of darkness that enveloped her, now, was far more comforting than she felt she truly deserved. In contrast to how jumbled her thoughts had seemed in the waking world, now she felt a surprising sense of peace. Not clarity, per se, because she was not deluded enough to ignore the strange fog that seemed to pull at her mind, much the same as the familiar pull of sleep after she had spent more time than she should have absorbed in studying, without even the smallest of breaks for food and rest. But still, it was a sensation that was not entirely unwelcome, regardless of how unsettling it may be, and in spite of the urgency inherent in the voice that seemed determined to keep pushing her to return to reality, Lacie could not quite seem to summon the wherewithal to do so, her body remaining still as she kept her gaze fixed upon the fuzzy silver light that seemed to dangle overhead, just out of reach.

It was almost beautiful, she thought, her eyes tracking the tiny thing's movements as it bobbed around above her head, while her fingers flexed experimentally as some of the leadenness that seemed to plague her limbs abated. For a moment or two, she simply remained where she was, flat on her back against a surface that was cool to the touch, but not uncomfortably so, regardless of how she could feel the instinctive desire to move beginning to make itself known at the back of her mind.

"Lacie, please—please, stay with me—"

She did not want to stay. Not when doing so would mean that she exchanged the tenuous sort of peace she had found in this place for the uncertainty of the world she had been forced into without any chance for going back.

She did not understand that world, and if she could spend the remainder of her days far away from it—here—then Lacie thought she would be forever grateful, even if that meant she never saw another living soul again as a result.

Exhaling slowly as the thought seemed to somehow force her to sit, and then to stand not long thereafter, Lacie tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and turned in a slow circle to attempt to get her bearings. Wherever she was, it was certainly someplace she had never been before, her eyes slowly starting to adjust to the darkness, and giving her every reason to believe that she was not in a place that existed in the truest sense of the word. Everything around her seemed blurry, somehow, and no matter how long she might gaze at any given object, she could not seem to make it come into focus. So, with a huff, Lacie found there was not much to do besides move forward towards the vague shape of what appeared to be a doorway just off to the right, her steps faltering just a bit as she realized the strange little light that had been bobbing above her head was following her.

Following her.

Impossible.

With a shake of the head, Lacie opted for ignoring that particular realization in favor of continuing towards the doorway, her vision becoming clearer bit by bit with every step she took. She was not quite certain how to explain it, of course, since her ability to see very clearly in the dark had always been questionable at best. But in spite of that reality, she could not deny the startling sense of acuity she sensed as she drew nearer to the door, the slight burn in her eyes only crossing her mind for a moment before she stepped through the doorway, and into another room vastly different from the first.

"Lacewing, please. Wake up!"

She did not want to wake up, and she wished the voice would simply stop asking…

Determined to ignore the pleading words for as long as she could, Lacie moved into the room she had just discovered, her eyes absorbing every thing about it as though it were suddenly imperative that she commit every last detail to memory. Mahogany tables—hardwood flooring—crystal vases filled with red roses, and stained-glass lamps—it was beautiful, and in spite of the small flare of trepidation that fluttered in her stomach, she found herself stepping closer to one of the vases upon a table beside what appeared to be a black leather sofa, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she reached out to touch one of the petals with trembling fingertips.

It disintegrated into ash at her touch.

Recoiling from the dust as it fell to the table like a fine mist, Lacie stumbled a few steps back, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribcage as she noticed the other roses littered about the room beginning to do the same. As if she had triggered some sort of chain reaction by that simple touch, Lacie found herself staring, mouth open in a silent scream as the lamps began to flicker, and a fire roared to life in the fireplace she had apparently failed to notice in light of her preoccupation with the roses.

Above the fireplace, there was a mirror…

"Damn it, Lacie, please wake up—"

A groan of frustration escaped as Lacie once again forced the voice from her mind in favor of stepping towards the fireplace, instead, her gaze fixed upon the mirror above it as though in a trance. The little light bobbed to the right of her head, momentarily casting a slight shadow over her features, and illuminating a figure behind her that she had not yet seen. For a moment, she remained where she was, rooted to the spot as surprise and apprehension paralyzed her limbs with the same leaden immobility that had plagued her when she first learned of where she was. But just as soon as Lacie had decided she wanted to move, she felt the sudden pressure of long fingers curling around her forearm, once again rendering her immobile as she found herself thwarted in the act of looking away from the mirror, and another hand fixed itself upon her shoulder to keep her looking straight ahead.

"Look at yourself. Look at what you really are."

"No, I—I don't want to."

"You do not have a choice."

Powerless to do anything save for follow the instructions given by the unknown voice, Lacie lifted her gaze to the mirror once again, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she felt the fingers at her wrist and shoulder digging into her skin as though they sought to gouge into the flesh itself. Though she tried with all she had to catch a glimpse of the person holding her in place in the mirror, she could discern nothing save for a significant difference in height, and a physique that was rather distinctly male.

As soon as she tried for a closer look, however, she found her attention instead diverted to her own reflection, the hand that was not being held firmly at her side lifting to press over her mouth as it opened in a gut-wrenching scream, while she stared at the vibrantly glowing green of her eyes looking back at her from the mirror.

No matter what she may have once thought of this place, it was not a peaceful one.

It was a place of nightmares.

…

"Nick, you need to step back."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You're not doing her any good, not letting the paramedics see if they can bring her back around," Hank persisted, reaching forward to place a hand upon Nick's shoulder, only to find that his partner had recoiled from that touch as though he had been burned, "Come on, man, you know I'm right about this."

"I'm not leaving her. I can't."

"N—Nick?"

"Lacie! You're awake."

"What—what happened?" The blonde inquired, trying to force herself into a seated position, only to find that she was thwarted in the act by two hands moving to press back against her shoulders to keep her in place, "Where's—Nick, where's Mom?"

"In the ambulance, on the way to the hospital," Nick replied, aware of the almost immediate panic that made itself known in Lacie's expression, and tightening his hold upon her shoulder to keep her in place as a result, "She's going to be fine, Lacie. Right now, I'm more worried about you."

"Why? I'm—I'm fine."

"No, Lacie. No, you're not."

"What are you talking about?" Lacie protested, noting the obvious concern in Nick's usually calm blue eyes, and finding that her brow furrowed just a bit after she realized that concern did not appear to be going away, "I didn't—I need to be with my mom."

"Nick, if she's awake, we need to take her into the precinct."

Distracted by the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Lacie finally found the wherewithal to look away from her cousin, and towards the dark-skinned man crouched beside him, instead. In contrast to Nick, this man wore an expression that was more wary than anything else. And half in an attempt to distract herself from the stone that seemed to lodge itself in her stomach in response to that look, Lacie glanced down at her hands where one pressed against the ground, and the other rested in her lap, only to find that her eyes were widening as soon as she realized they were sticky, and red with blood.

"Oh—oh my God, what—Nick, what—"

"What do you remember?"

"N—nothing," Lacie stammered, her eyes seeming to remain glued to her hands, where they now rested, trembling in mid-air before her, "Why—Nick, why am I covered in blood?"

"You really don't remember?" Her cousin repeated, the disbelief that was so inherent in his tone finally managing to tear Lacie's gaze away from her hands, though it only succeeded for the briefest of moments, just long enough for her to see how his expression had shifted from concern, to something else, entirely, "What was—what was the last thing you do remember?"

"We were walking with Mom. She was—she was telling us something that didn't make any sense."

"And then?"

Shaking her head as she realized any and all efforts to recall what had transpired after her mother's ill-fated attempts to explain something that was, even now, still more than a little fuzzy in her memory, Lacie bit down on her lower lip in an effort to keep the whimper that was clawing its way up her throat at bay. She was shaking all over, now, her hands curling into fists until she could feel her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms. And although she truly wanted to find some logical explanation for her current situation, she kept coming up empty, her memory a blank slate that seemed all but determined to taunt her with her inability to remember even the slightest plausible reason that her hands, and her clothes as well, would be stained with blood.

"Alright. Alright, you don't have to remember right now," Nick began, his words cutting into her jumbled thoughts, and forcing her to look him in the eye once again, despite the fact that tears had now blurred her vision, "Do you think you're ready to stand?"

"I—yeah. Yeah, I think I can do that."

"Nick—"

"Let me do this, Hank."

More than a little startled by the uncharacteristic harshness in her cousin's reply, Lacie still could not entirely find herself capable of ignoring the gratitude she felt in response as his words seemed to push the other man to take a few steps back, the weight of Nick's hand as it took her own providing enough of a balm to her frayed nerves that she was able to momentarily divert her focus to the act of rising to stand on her own two feet. A spell of dizziness took over her as soon as she had done so, causing her to stumble, and land against her cousin's side while his arm looped around her waist to keep her steady. But in spite of the warmth of her cheeks that came in response to the tears she had been trying so valiantly to hold at bay, Lacie forced herself to grit her teeth, and attempt to rest her weight upon her own two feet once again, a strangled groan escaping as her knees wobbled for a moment before she gained her bearings, and found she was finally capable of releasing her stranglehold on Nick's hand in the same motion.

"You good?"

"I think that's a—a matter of perspective," She ground out, managing a tremulous smile as she glanced towards her cousin, and noting with some dismay that his expression had not flickered, even once, to show that he had registered her attempt at a joke, and responded in kind, "Yeah. Yeah, Nick, I'm good."

"Okay. Let's get you over to the car."

"I need to be with Mom."

"Nick, we need to take her in—"

"In? In—where?"

"The precinct," Nick supplied, the sharpness of the words jogging Lacie's memory just enough that she could recall the other man's apparent determination to take her to the very last place she needed to be, right now, "We're—they're going to want to ask you some questions."

"Who's they?"

"My—my coworkers."

"Nick, I don't understand—"

"Lacie, they're going to need to know what happened, here."

"And I need to see my mom!" The young woman exclaimed, wrenching away from Nick's side just as they reached the unmarked car with red and blue lights flashing, and swaying a bit on her feet as a result, "If I'm going anywhere, I'm going to the hospital."

"You—you can't. Not right now."

"Why not?"

"Because, you—you need to trust me on this, alright?" Nick pleaded, holding out a hand to placate his obviously agitated cousin, in hopes that the gesture would give her some reason to believe that she could take him at his word, "I need you to come with us—with Hank and I—to the precinct, and I promise you, as soon as we're done, we'll go see your mom."

"Tell me why he doesn't seem like he wants to agree with you on that," Lacie hissed, her gaze landing on the man who seemed so determined to keep regarding her as though she were a powder keg, just waiting to explode. In truth, it set her teeth on edge, rendering her nearly capable of ignoring the lingering tremble of her muscles as she took a step back from Nick, and exhaled in a shaky rush before going on, "Tell me that, Nick, and maybe I'll believe you."

"Lacie—"

"We need you to come in with us," The other man cut in, approaching the agitated young woman with no small degree of caution, and attempting to reach behind his back for the handcuffs he kept latched to his belt without her following the movement on her own, "It doesn't have to be unpleasant for anyone involved, unless you make it that way."

"Hank, just hang on a minute—"

"I'm trying to do this by the book, man."

"She's not going to hurt anyone," Nick, pressed, his gaze shifting from his partner to his cousin, just in time to register the flicker of shock that passed over her features, before turning his attention back to Hank upon hearing his ensuing reply.

"She already has."

"I—what?" Lacie choked, her throat going dry as she looked to her cousin in hopes that he would somehow find a way to put down the other man—Hank's—claims, only to find that he failed to do so, no matter how much his expression seemed to indicate he wished that was not the case. A strange sort of tingling had taken root in her chest as she stood there, catching the glint of silver handcuffs in the stranger's hand, and the resignation that etched its way into her cousin's face as though seeking permanent residence there. And, before she could fully stop herself, Lacie was turning on a heel as though the act of running away would truly make her problems go away, only to find that she was stalled, once again, as soon as her gaze landed upon the body resting on the ground just a few feet away from where she could recall her cousin helping her to stand.

Two people were drawing a black tarp over the figure's face…

"No—no—"

"Lace, it's—it's going to be okay—"

"No."

"It's going to be okay," Nick said again, the slight pressure of his fingers curling around her arm causing Lacie to flinch, though she could not seem to summon the power necessary to turn her gaze away from the sight that gouged a pit in her stomach, and caused bile to rise to the back of her throat, "We're going to figure this out."

"I—I didn't—did I do that?"

"You don't need to see this."

"Nick, what did I do?"

"That's what we're going to try to figure out."

Swallowing past the thick lump that took up residence in her throat, Lacie was only capable of managing a nod in response to her cousin's words, her eyes once again brimming with unshed tears as she stumbled back a few steps, and felt the solid pressure of Nick's chest at her back. She wanted to look away from the body on the ground—from the evidence that, even if she could not remember a thing about how it got there, she may have been the cause. But try though she might to tear her eyes away, Lacie continued to stare at the likely cause of the blood staining her hands, her eyes widening as she came to the sudden realization that the rattling sound that only seemed to grow in volume was actually coming from her.

She could not breathe…

"N—Nick? I can't—I can't—"

"Hey—hey, look at me. Look at me, Lacie," Nick implored, ignoring Hank's skeptical expression entirely in favor of moving to stand in front of his cousin, both hands squeezing gently at her shoulders as her panicked green eyes met his own, "Okay. Okay, you need to breathe in for me. Breathe in, nice and slow. Can you do that?"

Desperate to try and do as she had been told, even if for no other reason than to ease the burning in her chest, Lacie struggled to manage a nod, and forced herself to clamp her eyes shut, her thoughts turning solely to the task of drawing in a breath even in spite of the fact that it felt like doing so were the most excruciating thing she had ever faced. It was as though she were trying to suck in air through a very thin straw. But somehow, despite the fear gnawing at the back of her mind, Lacie was capable of inhaling, albeit shakily, the steady weight of Nick's hands upon her shoulders giving her something to latch onto as she heard his next instruction around the sudden pounding in her ears.

"Now, let it out. You can do this, Lacie—"

She did.

"Now, in again. And then out, as slowly as you can."

Following the instructions to the letter, Lacie was honestly surprised to find that, after a bit, her breaths were, in fact, coming a bit easier, the burning in her lungs easing up bit by bit until she could finally summon the courage to open her eyes once more. In contrast to the body she had seen before, this time the only sight that met her gaze was the worry upon Nick's face. And although she would have been blind to miss the relief that flashed across his features in response to her slower breathing, Lacie was also very much aware that his concern still lingered, his voice soft as he lifted one hand away from her shoulder, and brushed the pad of his thumb against one of the tears still making its way down her cheek.

"You good?"

"Y—yeah. I think—I think so."

"Okay. Let's get you in the car," Nick encouraged, one arm looping around Lacie's waist to pull her back against his side, so that he could guide her to the car, while Hank relinquished his hold on the cuffs in favor of digging into his pocket for the keys, and heading towards the driver's side door. It would have been a lie to pretend he was not relieved at his partner's apparent change of heart when it came to cuffing his cousin and stowing her in the back of the car like she were any other common criminal. But in spite of that minor lessening of the tension that had been gnawing at him ever since Lacie had lost consciousness, Nick could not deny that he was still very much in awe of not only what she had done, but the fact that she seemed genuinely incapable of recalling even the smallest detail about it in the aftermath.

He felt he knew her well enough to tell that the admission of absolutely no memory of the event was genuine, but that still did not take away his apprehension over what, exactly, might happen to her, should those memories return.

"I meant what I said earlier, you know," He said, gently tucking Lacie's still trembling form into the back seat of the car as best he could, and trying not to notice how small she looked, with her shoulders hunched in on herself, and her arms crossing over her chest, likely in an effort to keep him from seeing her shaking hands, "As soon as we get things sorted at the precinct, I'll take you to see your mom."

"I—I know, Nick. Thank you," Lacie acknowledged, her voice wavering just a bit as she settled into the back seat, one leg jigging up and down as though it had taken on a mind of its own. She was terrified of what this trip to the precinct might mean—of what she might remember, or not, when she got there. But more than that, she was frightened beyond belief that whatever had happened, it was clearly enough to persuade even Nick to refrain from allowing her to go to the hospital to check on her mother…

Whatever else had happened, Lacie was cognizant of the fact that if Nick thought she truly needed to be questioned further, before that could happen, then things had gone awry far more quickly than she fully realized.

…


	5. Falling Apart

It was cold inside the interrogation room.

That was the thought that continued to race through Lacie's mind as she sat with her hands placed flat upon the table before her, and tried to ignore the way that they continued to tremble, despite the fact that she knew full well it had nothing to do with chill that had caused gooseflesh to erupt against the skin of her arms. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she supposed the temperature of the room was a deliberate thing. Something to make anyone preparing to undergo questioning as uncomfortable as possible in hopes that discomfort would cause them to slip up in some way, and uncover whatever lies they had been attempting to hide. But the trouble was, she had nothing to hide. Or at least, nothing that she should be hiding that she could actually remember…

She supposed, that was the very tip of the metaphorical iceberg, in terms of the list of problems she currently faced, and no matter how many times Nick may have tried to reassure her on the ride in to the precinct, she could not help but feel that this just may be the beginning of the end.

What was it they said on those documentaries she used to binge with her mom in the summer when she didn't have school work to worry about, and Marie was too tired to go out?

Unexplained blackouts were often indicative of a deeper disorder?

Biting down on her lower lip in response to the almost immediate panic that set in in response to such a thought, Lacie forced her self to redirect her attention towards her still-trembling hands, her fingers flexing in a half-hearted attempt at stopping the instinctive act in its tracks. Though she knew, realistically, that she had not been on her own in the interrogation room for very long, it felt like hours had passed since she had last seen Hank—her cousin—anyone that could even begin to attempt helping her decipher her own wayward thoughts. And as though each second were somehow capable of literally dissolving her grip on sanity, bit by bit, Lacie ground her teeth together in a last-ditch effort to hold her ground against the strangled sob that was struggling to force its way free from her throat, only to find herself distracted by the sudden sound of the door behind where she sat squeaking open on its hinges. Her entire body went rigid as she recognized the detective that had been with her cousin when she came to entering the room, his expression all but unreadable as he shifted on his feet for a moment before shutting the door behind him, and heading towards the seat opposite her not long thereafter.

"Lacie Kessler, right? I'm—"

"Hank," The young woman supplied, watching her companion's face carefully, though it did not take her long to note that her recollection of his name didn't seem to phase him in the slightest, "I—I remember, Nick said you were his—"

"His partner. Yeah, I am," Hank confirmed, leaning back in the chair across the table from where Lacie remained seated, his somewhat relaxed posture at odds with her own, as though someone had frozen her in place, while he remained capable of moving about at will, "You two are cousins, right?"

"We are. My—my mom took him in after his parents died."

"So, you grew up together."

"We did."

"And you've always been close?"

"You could say that," Lacie began, her brow furrowing as she risked a glance towards her hands once again, and noted that, at least for the moment, they appeared to have stopped their relentless trembling, "Why are—why does that matter?"

"Just making conversation," Hank explained, one shoulder lifting in what appeared to be a nonchalant attempt at a shrug, while his tone remained surprisingly even, given what they both knew they were really together to discuss, "I think we both know how much Nick cares about helping you out of this."

"He doesn't—I don't expect him to—to do that."

"Whether you do, or not, I think you know enough to realize that he will. And I'm pretty sure he already has."

"What? What are you talking about?" Lacie questioned, flinching in light of how her voice seemed to fracture, mid-sentence, and chewing at the inside of her cheek for a moment as she realized her companion had caught on to the wavering of her voice before she could even begin to stop it, "What's he—what did he do?"

"He seems to think it would be better for all parties involved if he took the heat for the whole thing."

Rendered speechless, at least for the moment, by the prospect of what Hank had just disclosed, Lacie struggled to corral her nerves into some semblance of order, her heart pounding erratically against her ribcage as she forced herself to meet her companion's gaze even in spite of the frayed nature of her nerves. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she knew she might be better served simply allowing Nick to do as Hank seemed to believe he would. That the badge he wore might protect him in ways it could never hope to do for her. But, regardless of whether or not she could remember a thing about what had happened, or what her cousin may be taking on as a result of that lack of memory, Lacie was very much reluctant to allow him to do so, her jaw clenching together for only a moment before she was shaking her head, and attempting to force herself into a coherent reply.

"It—no. No, he's wrong."

"Do you have any memory of what happened?"

"That isn't the point—"

"No? From where I'm sitting, I think it might be," Hank countered, regarding the obviously agitated young woman seated across from him for a moment, before choosing a more direct approach in hopes it might persuade her to stop beating around the bush, entirely, "What do you remember?"

"Nothing's changed. I don't—I can't remember what I did, or—"

"What about what you were doing before your memory goes blank? Can you tell me anything at all about that?"

"A bit."

"I can work with a bit."

"Okay," Lacie breathed, once again averting her gaze to her hands, and trying to ignore the slight resurgence of the tremor that had momentarily abated not that long ago, "My mom and I had—had surprised him—Nick—with a visit, and we were waiting for him to come home from work with Juliette."

"Why wasn't Juliette outside with you?" Hank inquired, his tone curiously neutral, despite the fact that Lacie was very well aware it was likely only a ploy intended to make her feel at ease in his presence, whether or not he had been the one perhaps most determined to have her brought to the precinct in the first place. In truth, Lacie was not entirely certain she knew the reason why her cousin's girlfriend had not come with them, now that she thought about it in the wake of Hank's question. But in light of everything else that had transpired, she supposed that counted for very little in the grand scheme of things, her shoulders lifting in a minute shrug before she cleared her throat and attempted to reply as best she could.

"I think Nick just wanted some time with his—with us. His family."

"Did he need to discuss something with you that he couldn't mention in front of Juliette?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely," Lacie replied, frowning as she took in the flicker of disbelief that flashed across her companion's face, though to his credit, he rearranged his expression into its former mild curiosity so quickly she almost doubted she had seen the change at all, "We just—we hadn't seen each other in a while, that's all."

"Okay. So, you were out for a walk, then? Does that sound right?"

"I—yes."

"Can you remember what the three of you talked about?"

"Not—not really, no."

"What about what you and your mom were up to before you came to Portland?" Hank continued, noticing the sudden confusion that passed across the young woman's features in response to the slight divergence in questioning, and reacting by spreading his hands a bit in front of where he sat, before explaining the choice so that she might understand, "Just trying to get a better sense of who you are."

"You mean, you're trying to see if this has ever happened before."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"No," Lacie said, surprised with how suddenly her tone had become more vehement, as though some manner of self-preservation instinct had taken over, in spite of her lingering apprehension, "No, I've never suddenly misplaced chunks of memory all at once."

"Not even with all the work you'd taken on? Nick told me you were already looking at college course work."

"Not even then. He—he told you about that?"

"I think he might be just a bit impressed. Tell you the truth, I am, too," Hank confessed, pleased to note the remark had Lacie's expression softening just a bit, even if only for a moment, before he attempted to use that reality to his advantage, "I was never much of a book worm, myself."

"I—I kind of always have been."

"Makes sense. I don't know of many other people that would willingly lose the summer after their senior year to schoolwork."

"Maybe I was just trying to—to do things while I still could," Lacie informed, trying and failing to entirely ignore the spasm of guilt that came about in response to the renewed realization that she was currently held captive in an interrogation room, when where she truly ought to be was at her mother's side at the hospital. It would have been a lie to pretend that she was not sorely tempted to try anything within her power to get out of here. To get to the hospital because that was where every instinct she possessed was screaming at her that she needed to be. But she knew that would only make her situation worse. That running away now would only prove her guilt, when Nick was clearly trying to do whatever he could to make that go away.

She could not repay his apparent desire to protect her with an act of cowardice, no matter how fiercely she may want to.

"Could you tell me what you mean by that? Doing things while you still can?" Hank pressed, watching as the question caused Lacie's features to twist momentarily, as though she had become suddenly pained by the inquiry, despite the rather innocent intentions behind it, "Seems kind of like an odd thing to say, for someone as young as you are."

"It's not—it's not that. It's my mom."

"Is she sick?"

"Cancer," Lacie supplied, wincing as the word grated against her throat as though someone had coated it in sandpaper, "She's—she's been sick for a while, now."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is that why the two of you came to Portland?"

"Because she has cancer?"

"Makes sense you'd want to be with your family, during an ordeal like that," Hank explained, watching his companion carefully, and noting how she seemed to force a deep breath to steady herself before summoning the wherewithal to reply, her voice seeming to crack around the words, in spite of her obvious desire to avoid such a thing in the first place.

"They—her doctors don't think she has much more time."

"I'm sorry. Truly."

"You don't—you don't have to be," Lacie assured, biting into her lower lip for a moment in hopes that it would divert the tears she could already feel beginning to burn against the corners of her eyes. She hated this. Seeming so vulnerable, when she knew, somehow, that it would only make her situation worse. But before she could come to terms with exactly how she was to rectify that particular situation, Lacie found herself flinching in response to the sound of the door to the interrogation room opening for a second time, her eyes widening as she realized this particular intruder was someone she knew.

"Nick?"

"Captain says she's free to go," Her cousin informed, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he regarded his partner with an expression that all but dared him to object, "She didn't do anything wrong."

"Nick—"

"The man that came after us. I killed him. We can't hold her any more. You know that, Hank."

"She doesn't remember anything, man," Hank protested, risking a glance at the young woman in question, and discovering she appeared every bit as stunned by the recent turn of events, as he was, himself, "We were trying to see if that might change."

"It doesn't need to. I'm taking her home."

"And the Captain is okay with this?"

"I wouldn't be here if he wasn't," Nick pressed, stepping just a fraction of an inch closer to his cousin, and reaching for her hand in the same motion before going on, "Lacie, we're leaving."

"Are—are you sure?"

"Positive. Come on."

Powerless to do anything save for accepting Nick's hand, and allowing him to help her to stand, Lacie did as best she could to ignore the sudden trembling in her limbs, her fingers squeezing her cousin's as though he was the only thing that could stand a chance at keeping her upright. It would have been a lie to pretend she was not almost overwhelmingly reluctant to allow him to do this for her. That she did not feel an even more potent sense of guilt at the thought of him taking the blame for something she had done, whether she could remember having done it or not. But something in the way Nick had looked at her just before helping her to her feet stalled her words in her throat, her lips thinning into a line as she ignored Hank's incredulous expression in favor of following after her cousin, instead.

Guilt over his apparent decision to take the blame for something she had done notwithstanding, Lacie was not entirely prepared to refuse this chance to get herself out from beneath the weight of the questions that had been asked thus far, and the inherent doubt that her claim to have no recollection of what had happened was true that was so apparent in those questions even she could sense it in spite of her distraction and worries that only seemed to grow by the minute.

She could barely breathe beneath the weight of those worries, but somehow, in the wake of Nick leading her from the interrogation room, to where his coat was draped over the back of the chair at his desk, it became slightly easier to bear…

Or at least, it was easier to bear until her mind seized onto the sole reason for her unexpected freedom in the first place, and she stopped dead in her tracks while Nick's hand feel from her own in the same motion.

"Wait. Nick—wait—"

"Lace, I need to get you home."

"Why am I here?"

"What are you talking about? You and your mom came to Portland—"

"No. No, I'm not talking about that," Lacie interrupted, shaking her head a bit, and ignoring Nick's skeptical expression as he turned from the act of reaching for his jacket to face her, head-on, "I'm—I'm talking about why I'm not still sitting in there with your partner, because we both know you didn't do this."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Nick replied, the slight thinning of his lips indicating they would be better served carrying this conversation on elsewhere, though it was not entirely enough to persuade his cousin to back down, regardless.

"You do. Why—why did your Captain agree to let me go in the first place?"

"Because I told him what really happened."

"What really happened? Or what got me out of this?" Lacie demanded, stepping closer towards Nick as she realized that their exchange had already garnered the attention of some of the other officers and detectives in the vicinity, and lowering her voice just a bit in hopes they would not be overheard, "Nick, please, I need you to tell me what's going on."

"And I will. Trust me, Lacie, I'm not going to leave you in the dark, but I can't tell you now. Not—"

"Not here."

Freezing in the wake of the unexpected inclusion of another voice in what she had hoped would be a private conversation even in spite of their current location, Lacie closed her eyes, momentarily cursing her decision to question Nick on his motives without thinking of the potential consequences inherent therein. Had she not been so frazzled already, she might have had the forethought required to avoid making such an error in the first place. But whatever her decisions might have been, under different circumstances, she could not change a single thing about it now, a tremulous breath escaping her lungs as she forced her eyes open once more, just in time to wrench herself away from the sudden sensation of a hand coming to rest against her shoulder.

"Easy, Lacie," Nick cautioned, moving to stand at his cousin's side, one hand resting against her arm, while he simultaneously took note of how she had started trembling again, and gave the newcomer a warning glance in response. He would have been blind to miss the wary expression that had taken over his cousin's features, as though she felt she had some reason to fear the man that had approached them, and clearly caught her unawares. If he hadn't known any better, he might have attributed the look upon her face to recognition. Mistrust, even, given the right circumstances, as though the man that had stepped towards them in the midst of their conversation had threatened her in some way, before. But of course, that was impossible. Lacie had never met anyone he worked with before today.

Had she?

Before he could find himself too caught up in the ridiculousness of the notion, however, Nick was able to shake himself out of his own thoughts in response to the way in which Lacie had stepped closer to him almost instinctively, as though suddenly determined that she needed his protection. Of course, he was not unwilling to provide such a thing, whether or not he understood the necessity for it, in the first place.

Even if that meant going up against the Captain to do it.

"Headed out?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I thought Lacie and I could swing by the hospital first, but then we're headed home," Nick confirmed, raising a brow as he realized the Captain had only spared a cursory glance for him, before turning his attention back to the still trembling young woman at his side, instead, "There a problem with that?"

"Not at all. As long as you keep to what we discussed."

"And what—what was that, exactly?" Lacie cut in, turning towards Nick, and frowning almost as soon as she took note of how his expression had shifted into something not all that far from regret, "Nick, what is—what is he talking about?"

"He thought it would be best if we keep a low profile. Home and the hospital. That's it," Nick said, very much aware of how Lacie's skeptically raised brow seemed to signify that she did not agree with this apparent plan in the slightest, "Just until we're sure—"

"Until you're sure I won't find myself conveniently forgetting anything, again."

"That's not—Lacie, that's not what we're saying at all."

"Actually, she's not that far off the mark."

"Well, at least someone's being honest," Lacie quipped, regarding the man she suspected may have been the Captain that Nick had mentioned when he came to inform her of her release from custody, such as it was, with what might have been a somewhat grateful expression, before turning back towards Nick, in favor of going on, "I'll meet you at the car."

"Lacie—"

"I just—I really think I need some air," The young woman insisted, withdrawing from her cousin's side, and hating how even with how fiercely she felt the truth in her own words, her tone still seemed to waver, as though she could hardly force herself to speak, "I assume that's still allowed?"

"As long as you stay by the car."

Nodding in response to the Captain's words, and turning on a heel before the troubled look that had taken over Nick's features could persuade her to stay, Lacie maneuvered towards the open doorway at the opposite end of the room, her hands shaking so fiercely that she was forced to curl them into fists as she moved. It made no sense to her, why she had been set free. Why, even with the prospect of someone else from the precinct watching her movements, she felt like it might just have been safer for her to remain inside. She hated all of the uncertainty. Being torn between wanting nothing more than to glue herself to her mother's side, and getting herself back to her own home as soon as she could in hopes that all of the things that had transpired since their arrival in Portland would just go away. But regardless of what she may have truly wanted in that moment, Lacie found herself all but powerless to fight against the urge to simply keep moving, the skin of her neck seeming to prickle beneath the weight of the gaze of not only her cousin, but the Captain as well.

To say anything other than that the realization was far more unnerving than she cared to admit would have been a lie…

…


	6. Assassin

Shivering against the chill of the wind as it caused a few stray locks of hair to blow across her line of vision, Lacie folded both arms across her chest, and leaned against the passenger side door of Nick's car while she waited for him to tie up any loose ends inside the precinct, and hoped with all she had that he would finally tell her what the hell had happened while they were on the way to the hospital to check on her mom. In truth, the prospect of getting those answers was perhaps the only thing keeping her standing, when she could still feel the lingering weakness in her knees that came about any time she spent too long trying to remember exactly what had happened to land her in her current position in the first place. But whether or not she could come to grips with whatever it was she had done, even if Nick did give her the entire story as she hoped that he would, Lacie knew full well that she needed them if she wanted to have any hope of moving forward.

If she wanted any hope of making sure it did not happen again.

Biting her lip as the thought of a repetition of the night's events traipsed through her mind, Lacie found herself stiffening at the very real fear that such a thought brought about, her eyes once again straying towards the door of the precinct as though that gesture alone could will her cousin into making an appearance, and sparing her any more time spent waiting on her own. Inasmuch as she may have wished for some time to process everything that had transpired in such a short time, she was also poignantly aware of the fact that her anxiety was only likely to get worse if she spent too much more time on her own. It was something of a double-edged sword, she supposed. A no-win situation that could go terribly wrong no matter which way she turned.

She wanted Nick by her side, just as much as she wanted time alone to process her thoughts, and the constant push and pull between those two desires was enough to nearly convince her that she was about to lose her mind. But then again, maybe if she did cross that line between sanity and its polar opposite, she could finally get some relief.

"Great. You're actually wishing for the nuthouse, now," She murmured to herself, shaking her head and shifting her position just a bit against the side of Nick's car, while one hand lifted from its position across her chest to tug through already tousled hair. Gooseflesh had started to prick at her arms as yet another cool gust of wind blew by. And although she was half-tempted to head back inside if for no other reason than to check on Nick's progress, she resisted, the idea of facing the other man who had seemed so willing to go along with the idea of her cousin being the reason behind another man's death almost proving more terrifying than remaining where she was until the wind finally chafed her skin raw.

She could not fully explain why the idea of coming face to face with her cousin's superior was so daunting, but it was, and she would sooner freeze completely than risk putting herself within range of that almost too perceptive gaze that had very nearly paralyzed her when she first saw him in the flesh.

Momentarily distracted from her troubled musings by the sound of a door swinging shut, and footsteps echoing against the damp pavement as they headed her way, Lacie caught herself tensing as her gaze snapped towards the precinct doors once more, only to find that she was relaxing almost immediately as she recognized the man jogging towards her. In mere seconds, Nick had come to a stop at her side, his expression still concerned, despite the faint look of relief that had taken over as he approached. For a moment, the two of them simply stood in silence, eyeing one another as though they were not entirely certain about how best to proceed. But before Lacie could fully reconcile the decision, herself, she had moved forward to throw her arms around Nick's torso, hot tears burning at the backs of her eyes in spite of her desire to avoid it as she buried her face in his chest, and felt his own arms come to wind around her not that long thereafter.

"Hey—hey, it's gonna be okay," He soothed, his chin coming to rest against Lacie's hair, while one hand moved in what he hoped would be a reassuring pattern against her back. She was trembling again, her shoulders shaking with the weight of suppressed sobs while her fingers laced together as though she didn't ever want to let him go. Not for the first time, Nick was forced to marvel at how much it must have taken for her to keep herself together while in the interrogation room, and how taxing that must have been when she had no recollection of what had brought her there to begin with. And although he was still very sure that what he had done had been the right course of action—the only course of action, in truth, that did not mean Nick was blind to the reality of how keeping Lacie in the dark about what had happened was never going to be a possibility.

She had always been far too stubborn when it came to learning the truth about anything that puzzled her, and what had caused her lack of memory of the entire evening thus far would be only too likely to be at the top of that list.

"What do you say we go and check on your mom?" Nick suggested, then, half in hopes that the visit would distract Lacie, at least for the time-being, and half knowing that being at her mother's side would be the only thing she would be even remotely interested in doing after everything she had just endured, "She's going to want to know you're okay."

"Yeah. Yeah, that would be—that would be good," Lacie agreed, pulling back from Nick, and trying to ignore the flush that adorned her cheeks as she brushed hastily at the tears that had spilled over onto her cheeks, in the same motion, "Sorry, I—I'm not trying to be such a mess, honestly, it's just—"

"You've been through a lot. I think that's all that needs to be said."

"You know that you don't have to cover for me—"

"Yeah. Actually, I think I do," Nick countered, something in his tone effectively stalling any further attempt at protest that Lacie might have made as he kept one hand placed upon her shoulder while the other reached around her to unlock the passenger side door, "Let's just focus on getting to the hospital, okay? We can talk about the rest later on."

"Yeah. I think I can work with that," Lacie admitted, climbing into the vehicle, and turning to reach for the door to shut it behind her, while Nick moved around to the driver's side to do the same. Of course, she was not entirely prepared to pretend that she was willing to let things persist as they were for too long before seeking answers, whether or not she would like them once they were in the open. But regardless of her own need to know exactly what she had done, Lacie would have been a fool to insist on getting those answers now when she had been given a completely unexpected chance to be where she wanted to be the most.

An opportunity she did not entirely believe she deserved…

…

Some time later, Lacie found herself curled up in the armchair situated beside her mother's hospital bed, her chin resting against her curled up fist as she gazed absently at the monitors that emitted rhythmic beeps into the otherwise silent room. According to the doctors, she had not yet woken up since her arrival in the ambulance what seemed like ages ago. And although some small part of her had wanted her mother to be conscious, if for no other reason than to see if she would be able to offer better explanation for her sudden decision to bring them to Portland, and what had happened after their arrival, Lacie was also more than a little grateful that she had not yet been forced to meet Marie's gaze head-on.

Her mother had always had a unique talent for discerning when something was troubling her, and Lacie was not entirely sure that coming clean about her bloodied hands, and everything that she could not remember about what had caused them would have been good for either of them at the present time.

Frowning in response to the thought, Lacie forced herself to focus upon other things, her gaze momentarily straying towards the door of her mother's hospital room just as Nick had returned with two Styrofoam cups held in his hands. Almost too eagerly, she extended a hand to reach for one, her brow lifting as she caught the subtle shift in her cousin's expression, and moved to speak before he could take the chance to do so, himself.

"Don't judge. You don't want to see me without caffeine."

"Since when did you get yourself hooked on coffee?" Nick inquired, taking a sip of his own beverage, and watching with some amusement as Lacie did the same before she replied.

"Since I decided to dive into college coursework without a break. Actually no, I think it was before that."

"Second grade?"

"Ha-ha. Very funny. You were around when I was in second grade."

"That doesn't mean you weren't sneaking the stuff when Marie and I weren't looking."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't," Lacie assured, unable to resist the soft laugh that broke free in response to the familiarity inherent in her cousin's teasing, despite the situation in which they had both been thrown into with very little in the way of preparation, "I think it was probably the start of high school."

"Seems about right. That time when you're trying to balance finding a good college, with puberty—"

"Speak for yourself. I was only worried about colleges."

"So, no Romeos lurking around in the corners, waiting to sweep you off your feet?" Nick mused, aware of the almost resigned shake of the head Lacie gave in response, and yet not missing the faint flush that graced her cheeks at precisely the same time, "Or maybe there was, and you just don't want to tell me about him."

"Trust me. This guy was hardly a Romeo in disguise."

"What was he?"

"More like a fellow nerd just trying to throw away the stereotype that neither one of us would get any before college," Lacie supplied, another laugh escaping as she caught sight of how Nick's face seemed to blanch at the suggestion of any sort of remote interest in sex, despite the fact that he was somewhat responsible for the topic coming up in the first place, "Obviously we both failed. Epically."

"No secret Casanova then?"

"God, no."

"I suppose I should be grateful for that," Nick muttered, fixing his attention on the warmth of the Styrofoam cup in his hands for a moment, and yet finding himself almost abundantly grateful for the few hints of laughter his inadvertently awkward questions had provoked, regardless. He would have been lying had he tried to pretend that he was not relieved that she was still capable of such a thing, considering everything that had transpired. But before he could become too distracted by that particular line of thought, Nick found his attention once again diverted to the present as Lacie shifted in the chair she occupied just enough to cause the leather to emit a faint squeak of protest, her fingers clasped tightly around the cup of coffee he had given her while she spoke again.

"Why? Were you about to devise a quest to defend my honor?"

"Something like that."

"Well, I'm happy to have spared you the trouble," Lacie quipped, giving her cousin what might amount to a sincere smile, but for the fact that it faded away almost as quickly as the sudden thought of Nick doing whatever he could to keep her safe brought her back to precisely what he had done mere hours before, "Or—some of the trouble, anyway."

"You haven't caused me any trouble at all."

"Oh really. So, lying to your boss and taking the fall for something you didn't do was easy?"

"It was easier than watching you go to jail for something you can't even remember," Nick remarked, aware of the suddenly stubborn set of Lacie's jaw, and yet choosing to press on, regardless, "And I haven't exactly taken the fall for anything."

"Because you're a cop."

"That's a part of it, yeah."

"And what's the other part?" Lacie pressed, her thumbnail digging into the cup she held, and leaving a small half-crescent indentation in the material before she went on, "What exactly persuaded you to lie for me, when we have no idea if what happened tonight will—will happen again?"

"It's not going to happen again. I'm not going to let it happen again," Nick promised, ignoring the obvious skepticism that was so inherent in Lacie's expression, and crouching down beside her chair so that he could look her directly in the eye, instead, "I need you to trust me on this, okay?"

"How can I trust you, Nick? How can I trust you when I can't even—"

"When you can't even trust yourself?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's about it," Lacie confirmed, gritting her teeth against the returning sting of tears in her eyes, and slumping back against the chair she occupied with a heavy sigh, "I just don't know why I can't remember."

Frowning as he saw the precise toll that not knowing what she had done was taking on his cousin, Nick honestly debated simply coming clean and telling her what he had witnessed first-hand. After all, the two of them had never had much of a history of withholding the truth from one another in the past, and it was paining him far more than he cared to admit to be doing so now, when Lacie needed him the most. But before he could say or do anything of that sort, the detective found himself distracted by the shrill ringing of his cell phone from inside his jacket pocket, his attention straying from Lacie for only a fraction of a moment so that he could answer the call, and rise to his full height once more.

"Burkhardt."

"Nick, sorry to bother you. We've—got another missing girl."

Unable to resist the sigh that escaped as Wu's words registered in his mind, Nick turned to place the coffee cup he held in his free hand on the nearby table, before lifting that hand, and running it across his brow. He knew, somehow, that he would play hell getting Lacie to leave her mother now, when she had been so insistent on seeing her while they were still held up at the precinct. But he also knew he was every bit as reluctant to leave her on her own, considering everything that had happened since she and Marie had arrived in Portland in the first place…

Something Wu seemed to anticipate, if the next words that echoed over the line were any indication.

"The Captain says he's got someone downstairs, ready to head up as soon as you leave," The Sergeant assured, waiting for only a fraction of a second, before going on, "I'll tell Hank you'll meet him at the home in question?"

"Yeah. Sure thing," Nick replied, disconnecting the call, and turning back towards Lacie to explain his sudden need to depart, only to find that she appeared to have come to that conclusion on her own, without any help from him at all.

"Duty calls?"

"It does. I'm guessing you're not going to be willing to go back to the house?"

"You guessed correctly," Lacie said, managing a weak smile in the hopes that it would persuade Nick she would be just fine where she was, and noting with some surprise that he did not appear to be prepared to protest her decision at all.

"Call me if there are any changes?"

"Of course."

"Okay," Nick consented, reaching for the coffee he had discarded on the table beside his aunt's bed mere moments before, and using his free hand to grab the pale fingers of the woman in the hospital bed to give them one squeeze by means of farewell, "Wu said someone would be coming up to keep an eye on things while I'm gone."

"Seriously?"

"Captain's orders, Lace. It's either that, or I drop you off at home, before I go to work."

"Okay. Enough said," Lacie relented, holding the hand that was not still clutching at her coffee out in a gesture of acquiescence, and settling back in the chair beside her mother's bed in preparation for a night spent keeping a watchful eye on the monitors opposite where she sat, "I'll be good. Scout's honor."

"You're sure?"

"Positive, Nick. Go save the world. I'll be fine right where I am."

Watching as her cousin spared one final glance for her mother, before turning on a heel and heading towards the hallway just outside the hospital room, Lacie would have been lying had she denied the very real feeling of apprehension that washed over her in response to the thought of being well and truly on her own. But, she supposed, she would not truly be alone, with whatever hapless stranger had been assigned to keep an eye on her while Nick was otherwise preoccupied with his job…

She could only hope that nothing of consequence would happen while he was gone, so that perhaps, in time, the never-ending string of would-be babysitters would no longer be needed at all.

…

Opening her eyes to find that she was back in the very same room she had wished so hard to avoid, Lacie forced herself to stifle a sob, while her fingers curled into fists so fervently that she could feel the sharpness of her fingernails digging into the skin of her palms. For a moment, she considered squeezing her eyes shut once again, in the vain hope that doing so would enable her to open them once again, and find herself in a different place entirely. But before that admittedly foolish desire could take over completely, Lacie found herself suddenly distracted by the sickening sensation of something sticky between her fingers as she kept them curled in towards her palms, her gaze dropping to her slowly opening hands until she saw what had so effectively diverted her attention in the first place.

Her hands were sticky with blood.

Stifling a scream, Lacie quickly cast her eyes about the room in the hope of finding something to clean the substance away from her otherwise pale skin, her heart thundering in her ears as direct evidence to the panic that now clawed its way through her chest and into her throat. Briefly, her eyes landed on the crumbled ashes of the flowers that she had touched the last time she was here, though she did her best to avoid allowing her gaze to linger on them for too long for fear of losing her nerve. Already, she could barely breathe, as though the sticky liquid on her hands had somehow seeped into her veins, and crawled its way to her lungs to strangle her from the inside, out. And so, she simply forced herself to continue searching for a towel—a vase filled with water—anything that would clean the blood from her skin before it caused her to lose her mind.

"You killed him. Why run from it?"

"No—" The young woman breathed, resisting the urge to look behind her, to see where the voice had come from first-hand, "No, you're not real."

"Am I not? I'm here, aren't I?"

"Not if I don't want you to be."

"Oh, but I think you want me to be," The voice replied, the surety that was so apparent in the man's tone causing a tremor to make its way down Lacie's spine as she finally seized one of the vases on a nearby table, and upended it over her free hand, before casting it to the side with the muted tinkle of shattering glass, "That won't work, you know."

"Yes it will. It is."

"Look again."

Doing as she had been told, albeit reluctantly, Lacie found that whether she cared to admit it or not, the stranger was right, the frantic scrubbing of her hands having done little to remove the blood despite her efforts to do the precise opposite. In response to the sight, all the resolve Lacie had thought she possessed seemed to disappear, her body sagging in defeat as the sound of dull footsteps reached her ears, and she finally turned to face the stranger head-on.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to wake up."

"What?"

"I want you to wake up," The voice repeated, its owner stepping forward while simultaneously reaching out a hand to curl around the pale skin of Lacie's throat, "Wake up, or she dies."

"S—stop, what are—what are you doing?" Lacie choked out, one hand lifting to allow her fingers to scrabble fruitlessly at the chokehold that the man had around her neck, while her lungs had already started to burn in response to the lack of air. She couldn't understand what it was that he meant. Who it was that he referred to when he told her if she did not wake up 'she' would die. But whether he referred to her, personally, or someone else entirely, Lacie found she could not focus on that distinction for very much longer, her eyes widening as the stranger's face fell into the light cast by a nearby candle, and she found herself confronted with a visage that was very distinctly not human.

It was like nothing she had ever seen before in her life.

…

Waking with a jolt, Lacie clutched tightly to the arms of the chair she had been sleeping in, her eyes snapping towards her mother's still sleeping frame while she struggled to regain control over her breathing. A cold sweat had broken out against her skin, causing her to shiver as a sudden waft of air came into the room as a woman in a white coat swept into the room with a vial and syringe in hand. And in an effort to disguise the fact that she appeared to be holding onto reality by a thread, Lacie quickly averted her eyes to her lap while she removed her hands from their death grip on the arms of her chair, her jaw working convulsively for a moment as she realized the act had allowed them to take up the act of trembling once again.

"I want you to wake up. Wake up, or she dies."

Wake up, or she dies.

With her brow furrowed in response to the sudden sense of foreboding that coiled in the pit of her stomach, Lacie glanced towards the woman who was drawing some of whatever was inside the vial into the syringe, now, her gaze lingering on the color of that liquid as a few things clicked into place in her mind all at once. For one, every other doctor or nurse that had come in to administer medications since her arrival at her mother's side had always made a cursory check of the medical chart via the small computer screen situated beside the monitors attached to the bed. For another, every single one of them, this woman excluded, had made a point of introducing themselves, and providing assurances one way or the other as far as it pertained to Marie's ongoing care. But this woman had done none of that, seeming oblivious to Lacie's presence, as well as that of the computer behind her as she focused instead on drawing the remainder of the liquid in the vial up into the syringe.

In fact, she seemed to be rather intent upon avoiding any acknowledgement of the other person in the room with her, and her would be patient, at all, and perhaps that was what allowed Lacie to note the final facet of the entire charade that all but screamed this woman was not who she pretended to be at all.

The liquid inside that syringe was the sort of vibrant green that could only signify one thing.

It was not medicine at all.

That realization in and of itself was seemingly all it took to push Lacie into action, her body springing up from the chair in seconds, flat, so that she could reach across the foot of her mother's bed, and latch onto the woman's arm just before she gained access to the IV tubing she had been prepared to use for injection of whatever it was that was inside the syringe. For a moment, she almost thought she had succeeded. That the look of surprise that had taken over the woman's features was indicative of a sudden decision to give into survival instinct, and simply leave before her presence garnered the attention of anyone outside the room, itself. But just as that thought had come to mind, Lacie was forced to abandon it entirely, instinct prompting her to attempt wrenching herself away from the woman's suddenly groping hand, even though the act was not enough to prevent her apparent adversary from leveling a saccharine smile her way before stabbing the needle into Lacie's forearm, instead, and depressing the plunger in the same fluid motion.

In seconds, the woman had pulled away, the syringe falling to the ground beside the vial that had shattered into pieces not long before, and allowing her to turn on a heel to head towards the door of the room while Lacie was left to flounder in her wake. For a moment or two, the young woman thought she might have been capable of calling for help. Of alerting someone to the fact that an attempt had just been made on her mother's life, before the woman who had done so could make her escape. But in spite of her best efforts to do precisely that, Lacie found that her throat seemed to close around the shout that she wanted to make, one hand lifting to claw at the fabric of her shirt as she became aware of a sensation that was not all that far from her heart coming to a dead stop inside her chest.

She was going to die, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it…

Panic clawed at her insides as she staggered backwards, knocking the rolling table that held a pitcher of water and a few plastic cups to the side and rendering it incapable of stopping her as she fell to the ground beneath it. Dimly, she became aware of a shout coming from somewhere out in the hall, and she spent a moment wondering if they had seen the woman leaving, and were prepared to go after her, themselves. But the sound of running footsteps echoing in her ears, and drawing ever nearer soon divested her of that hope, her back bowing in response to a sudden spasm of pain that tore its way through her chest, as her vision went completely black.

Lacie saw and heard no more, after that.

…


	7. Waking World

Detective Nick Burkhardt stood beside Lacie's hospital bed, his gaze riveted upon the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the blanket while the rhythmic beeping of the machine tracking her vitals rang in his ears. A part of him still couldn't believe it. That someone had actively tried to murder his aunt, and that his cousin had somehow gotten in the way. Of course, he ought to have known Lacie would throw herself in the path of anything that might serve to harm her mother, particularly given how she was very much aware of the limited time they possessed with one another as a family, given Marie's illness. But even that did not explain what might have caused someone to decide to attempt to kill either one of them, unless…

Unless it had more to do with what and who they were, than anything they had done at all.

The thought made his jaw clench as he simultaneously extended a hand to brush the tip of his finger against the skin of Lacie's forearm, the bruising left behind by the syringe that had been jammed beneath her skin still present, though it had already started to fade. The doctor had told him whatever was inside that syringe had stopped her heart, cold. That he, and the team of nurses that had come to his aid had very nearly given up hope when one of them noted the return of a pulse. And although he knew it had been sent down to the lab for testing, along with a sample of Lacie's blood as well, Nick was not entirely prepared to simply let things remain in limbo for very long, his attention shifting to the figure now stood in the doorway of his cousin's room, and lingering there while he waited for the newcomer to disclose whatever he had seen on the surveillance tapes he had been sent to peruse.

"Cams got nothing. I hate to say this, Nick, but we need Lacie to wake up if we have any hope of catching this guy."

"I was afraid you might say that," Nick replied, turning back towards his cousin's motionless frame, and withdrawing his hand from her arm in favor of stowing it inside his pants pocket, instead, "Did the staff see anything?"

"Not that they're owning up to. From what I've been able to put together, the best they can come up with is seeing a blonde woman leaving the room. That's it."

"A woman?"

"That's what they're saying," Hank confirmed, leaning against the doorframe, and regarding the young woman lying in the bed his partner stood beside with a look that was equal parts apprehensive, and concerned, "What'd your aunt and cousin do to piss so many people off, Nick?"

"No idea. But I think if we want to find who did this, we need to get the answer to that question as soon as possible."

"Almost as though you read my mind," Hank began, noting how pale, and small Lacie seemed, dwarfed by the size of the bed, and the machines surrounding her as well, "If you want, I can go it alone on this. Let you be with your family."

"No. No, I need to run with you on this," Nick disagreed, sparing one final glance towards his cousin, and reaching out to brush a loose curl of blonde hair away from her brow before turning from her entirely, and heading towards where Hank stood just inside the door, "Let's go."

"You really think that's a good idea?"

"You heard the Captain. He's got people at every elevator, and one down in the lobby. We need to figure this out."

"Okay. But you can't blame me for thinking it's a little odd you're leaving your cousin considering what just happened," Hank said, aware of the slight tick of a muscle in Nick's jaw, and yet not backing down, when he had witnessed, first-hand, exactly what his partner was capable of when it came to protecting the young woman that had created quite a large mess, where their investigation was concerned, "You really think she's gonna be okay?"

"She has to be. That's all there is to it," Nick informed, the fingers of his right hand brushing against the surface of the object his aunt had given him just after the attack where it rested inside his pants pocket, only to withdraw seconds later so that they could curl into a fist, instead, "This is how I protect her. By finding the person who did this, and bringing them down."

Knowing he would get nowhere by attempting to persuade his partner to stay put, Hank settled for a simple nod, instead, his hand lifting to clap Nick on the shoulder by way of providing encouragement for a moment, before it was dropping back to his side, and the two of them were heading out of Lacie's room, and towards the elevators at the opposite end of the hall. His companion was right, he supposed—the young woman, and her mother were far better protected now, than they had been, before. But Hank knew just by a singular glance in Nick's direction that the younger man was not as convinced that his cousin would be safe as he endeavored to appear, on the surface…

He knew that, just as well as he knew that there was more to this entire situation than met the eye.

…

(Portland, Oregon 1999)

"Nicky! Wait up!" The blonde little girl implored, toddling along after her cousin with pigtails bouncing, and allowing her lips to bow in a pout as the seventeen year old that was jogging along ahead of her did not appear inclined to slow down in the slightest. The two of them had just returned from school, Nick from the local high school, and the little girl from kindergarten, their habit of taking to the backyard not long after such returns only marred by the older boy's apparent desire to leave the little girl behind. She could not understand it, of course. Not when this had been their tradition ever since she could walk. But in spite of the plaintive nature of her voice, Lacie found herself slowing to a stop while Nick continued to jog ahead, her brow furrowing as she plunked herself down on a patch of soft grass, and folded her arms across her chest to sulk in earnest at her cousin's obvious unwillingness to play.

He always indulged in her games, and the fact that he appeared to have left her behind entirely in favor of venturing off on his own across the fields spanning the back of the property they lived on said more to her, even at five years old, than she could bear.

Lifting both hands to scrub at her eyes in response to the sting of tears that had begun to prick at their corners, the little girl allowed a soft groan to escape in frustration over her almost immediate turn to water-works, her teeth biting into her lower lip so fiercely that she could almost taste the metallic tang of blood. She would not cry over this. She couldn't. Not when she knew, somehow, that doing so would only make her cousin want to avoid her all the more.

Even at her young age, she was not blind to the sometimes skeptical glances the two of them received in response to how they seemed, more often than not, to be glued together at the hip, and Lacie would have been foolish to pretend that she did not know the reason why.

She had never been one to hate anything. Not really. But now, when she suspected that the rather generous gap in years between herself and her cousin was precisely what had caused Nick to decide he needed some space, she hated her lack of years—of experience—

She hated that someone she had come to idolize in a relatively short expanse of time was now pushing her away because of something she could not even control.

Yanking her hands down from her eyes, and forcing herself to shift onto her knees, and then pushing herself to stand, Lacie began to trudge off in a direction opposite from the one Nick had disappeared in, her feet scuffling every so often against a particularly tall tuft of grass while her hands shoved themselves inside her jacket pockets. Before too long, she had managed to thread her way between the equally spaced sunflowers that bordered the edge of the field, disappearing between the stalks of wheat, and remaining heedless of the numerous warnings her mother had given her to stay away from these fields when alone. Suddenly, she found herself possessed by the same need to be alone as Nick appeared to be, whether she could explain it fully or not. And so, while she continued to trudge through the fields, Lacie allowed the fingers of one hand to trace along the stalks of wheat, while her mind wandered a million miles away.

For some reason, her rather vivid imagination had always served her well, when the real world presented scenarios she would rather not think about…

It was easy enough to lose herself in her own imaginings, her legs carrying on the task of keeping her moving while green eyes turned slightly glassy in the process. Instead of in a wheat field, she could almost imagine she was traipsing through a forest, instead, the sunlight that leaked in through the stalks overhead coming through leaves, or so she told herself. Unbidden, a half-smile had tugged at her lips, her grief over Nick's apparent indifference to her desire to stay at his side momentarily forgotten as she began to wonder about the best role to assign herself, in her daydreams. She couldn't be the familiar lost princess, of course. Not when the one who usually stepped into the role of her knight in shining armor was missing in action. And so, Lacie found her steps slowing for a moment as she mulled this new turn of events over in her mind, until a conclusion came to her that she was honestly amazed she had never tried before.

In lieu of a dashing hero, was there any reason she could not fill that role, herself?

She supposed there was not.

With the thought giving some speed to her steps once again, Lacie moved further into the field of wheat, the tall stalks rather easily swallowing her up such that she could never have been seen from her home, or the yard beyond it. For a moment or two, she caught herself wondering exactly why it was her mother had always seemed so insistent that she never venture into that field on her own, when nothing had happened to give her any reason to be afraid thus far. But before she could fully redirect herself towards her current goal in devising a plan for herself, as the heroine of her own daydream, Lacie found herself brought rather abruptly back to the here and now by the sound of a sharp crack coming from somewhere to her left, her gaze snapping in that direction in such a way that one of her pigtails very nearly smacked her in the eye as a result.

Tilting her head to the side, Lacie fought against the rapid pounding of her heart left behind by the sudden sound, her tiny body shivering in anticipation as she forced herself to place one foot in front of the other to move towards the location the sound had come from in the first place. Her heart was in her throat, though she did her best to ignore that reality in favor of trying to act like the hero she had intended to be in her made up story that now seemed so very far away. And as she continued to move towards where she had heard the crack that seemed to split the air with far more power than she truly thought it should possess, Lacie forced herself to continue on, her hands reaching forward to part the nearby stalks in hopes that she could see what had caused the sound to begin with, only to find that what she saw when she did so had her stumbling back and landing hard on her bottom, the wind going out of her lungs in a startled scream as she fell, and shook her head to clear it of the image that had been seared into her memory whether she wanted it there, or not.

What she had seen had been a pair of glowing green eyes, and a man that appeared to be every bit as startled to see her as she had been to find him…

As soon as she had gathered her wits about her, Lacie had pushed herself upright once again, a slight wince stealing over her features as the act pulled at bruised muscles in the process. She had been prepared to part the stalks in front of her once again, her teeth digging into her lower lip to keep the fear at bay so that she could face the man once more. But just as she had reached forward to do exactly that, the little girl found herself brought up short by the sensation of a hand curling around her wrist, a gasp passing her lips until she turned and realized the one who had grabbed her was none other than the cousin she believed had abandoned her in the first place.

"Nicky?"

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Lacewing?"

Apparently, her innocent foray into the field to distract herself from her feelings had not been so innocent, after all.

…

(Present day)

"Any changes?"

"Not yet," The nurse informed, glancing up at the imposing man stood beside the plexiglass that rested as a barrier between the hallway of the intensive care unit, and the room housing the young woman who had not yet resurfaced from whatever had been in the syringe that had nearly killed her, and noting that his expression appeared entirely devoid of any emotion at all, despite his apparent interest in the patient, herself, "You her family?"

Almost as soon as she had asked the question, the nurse regretted it, the brief flicker of annoyance that passed across the man's otherwise handsome features giving her reason to believe that he was not one to be trifled with, regardless of the impression his obviously polished appearance gave her upon first glance. But inasmuch as she may have wanted to backtrack, or offer some means of apology for her rush to judgment, the woman found her mouth snapping shut as the man turned to level a dismissive glance her way, before returning his attention to the young woman in the room they stood before, and effectively closing all further possibility of conversation.

"I'll keep an eye on her. You're free to go."

"I'll be at the—at the nurse's station if you need anything at all," The woman assured, hard-pressed to decide if the tight line of the man's jaw were as a result of her continued presence at his side, or the state of the patient he was observing so intently, though she knew she would earn herself no favors by lingering around to find out, "Don't hesitate to ask."

In the wake of the woman's rather hasty retreat, the man was left to his own devices outside of the hospital room, a steely blue gaze riveted on the monitors detailing the patient's vitals while the muted beeps they made echoed out into the hall. During the admittedly hurried conversation with the girl's cousin, he had discerned there was no longer any immediate threat to her survival. But something about the manner in which the woman that had attacked her, or rather, that had endeavored to attack her mother prior to this girl getting in the way had managed to slip into the hospital room even with the presence of the officer that had been stationed nearby had given him every reason to believe that if he wanted the job done right, he truly ought to do it himself.

Turning to head towards the hospital room to do precisely that, the man took the liberty of shutting the door on the hallway behind him with a soft snap, before crossing the room to take the seat at the edge of the young woman's bed. From there, he had a suitable vantage point to watch not only the woman, but any visitors that may attempt to enter the room, as well. And although he was fairly certain that his presence would provoke numerous questions, from not only the young woman in question, but from one of the detectives in his employ, as well, the man was not entirely prepared to walk away when he had every reason to believe that he knew precisely why the young woman had been targeted in the first place.

Between what he suspected she may have done to the man who attacked her, her cousin, and her aunt, and the connection she had to the woman in the hospital room a mere four steps away, he would have been a fool to believe anything else.

She was a Grimm. She had to be. But as far as what that meant for him, and the greater objective he had here in Portland…

That was yet to be decided.

…

Blinking her eyes open in the now-familiar room that she truly wished she could avoid, given how horrid her first two experiences here had been, Lacie exhaled a resigned sigh, and forced herself to resist the instinctive urge to try and find a way out, her feet carrying her towards one of the many tables she had noted in previous visits so that she could take the liberty of sitting, to ease the ache in the arch of her foot brought on by the stilettos that she could not recall choosing to wear at all. A closer glance at her appearance gave the impression that she was somehow dressed for a more formal event, the dark fabric of the dress she had never seen before clinging to her frame, only to be accentuated by a slender rope of silver wound about her neck. And although she could not come up with even the slightest logical explanation regarding exactly why she was dressed in such a way, Lacie found that she was satisfied to have taken a seat, regardless, her green eyes casting about the room in search of any sign that she was not alone, despite the fact that thus far, she had not had any inclination of the stranger's presence until he was practically breathing down her neck.

Determined to avoid giving into the panic that such a realization brought about, however, Lacie forced herself to divert her attention elsewhere, her gaze once again casting about the room, this time to land not that far from where she sat, as she realized a book sat upon the table, where one had not been there, before. With brow furrowed, she reached over to it, her fingers trembling just a bit as though she feared that if she touched the thing, she would be burned. When no such punishment was forthcoming, Lacie drew the book closer towards her, a gasp of recognition passing through parted lips as she read the title upon the cover.

It was the self-same book she could recall her mother reading to her, and to Nick over countless nights when one or the other of them had experienced trouble falling asleep…

"What are you doing here?" She murmured then, running her fingertips across the well-worn cover, before opening the tome, and gazing upon the index of stories that were so familiar to her, she could have recited them all by heart, "You don't belong here."

Not surprisingly, the book did not offer any glaring insight into what or who had brought it to this particular room to begin with, the utter silence that greeted Lacie's admittedly foolish inquiry still prompting a slight huff of exasperation as she toed off the bothersome stilettos she wore, and leaned back in the chair while flipping to the first of the tales that the book had to offer. A faint smile crossed her features as she read the words upon that first page, remembering the exact tones of voice her mother would use to depict each character therein…

For the first time, in this room that had done nothing but frighten her, Lacie had begun to feel the faintest sensations of comfort, instead of fear, upon recollection of the countless nights she had spent curled into her mother's side imagining herself as countless different characters depending on the story being read.

She could not have said exactly how much time was spent simply getting lost in the pages of that book, something about the act of remaining calm and almost aloof granting her a sense of defiance against the stranger that had made it his habit to plague her that she had never hoped to obtain. Of course, Lacie knew it was childish. That persisting as she was, when she would have likely been better served trying to find a way out of the room, or at least attempting to learn more about it, was perhaps the very worst decision she could have made. But even with that realization, Lacie seemed entirely incapable of doing what was wise, her lips curving into a faint smile as she turned the page and prepared to read on, only to find that the sound of sudden footfalls had all but diverted her attention, instead.

"You are not safe."

"I am perfectly safe," The young woman bit back, her posture straightening as she tugged the book into her lap, as though seeking to protect it no matter what cost she incurred in the process, "What do you want from me?"

"If you have to ask, you will never know."

"What does that even mean?"

"You know what it means," The man intoned, something in his expression seeming to indicate he was almost amused by Lacie's indignation, though that realization on her part only served to increase her ire tenfold, "You know what it means, and you know what I want."

"Only, I don't," Lacie snapped, drawing the book against her chest, and squaring her shoulders even in spite of the instinctive need she felt to curl in on herself in light of the stranger's approach. His eyes seemed to hold her own, no matter how fiercely she might wish to be able to look away. And so, without any further recourse other than to continue looking at him head-on, Lacie remained precisely where she was, her lips thinning into a line as the man sat upon the edge of the desk near her own chair, his much larger frame looming over her own as he peered down at the book in her lap.

"That book is for children, you know. I did not take you for a child."

"I don't think what I am is any of your damned business."

"There it is. That fire I find so intriguing," The stranger murmured, reaching out a hand to brush the tip of his finger against Lacie's cheek, and smiling thinly as she recoiled from the touch almost immediately as a result, "You fear me."

"I don't."

"Your pulse tells a different story. I can hear your heart hammering from clear across the room."

"Maybe you should stop listening, then," Lacie retorted, secretly pleased that in spite of her unease in this man's presence, her tone had not wavered in the slightest throughout her replies. She could not fully explain it. What had made her so bold when before, she had all but cowered beneath the weight of this man's gaze. But still, she was not about to regret such a thing, when for the first time in quite a while, she suddenly felt absolutely certain of her intentions, her posture shifting just a bit in the chair she sat upon, so that she could face the man more directly, her attention remaining upon his face in spite of the shiver of revulsion that passed through her as a result of her knee brushing against his leg in the process. Regardless of her own misgivings, she was all but determined to persist in the act of pretending as though she was not simply putting on a show, when all she truly wanted to do was run away. But before she had the chance to determine what other manner of acerbic remark she could throw his way, the man was taking her momentary silence as leave to reply, himself, his words soft, but no less menacing as he leaned down until he was a mere hairsbreadth away from her ear, his breath gusting against the skin of her neck and making her flinch whether she wanted to or not.

"You are not safe. You would be wise to believe that, before it is too late."

No matter how fiercely Lacie wanted to reply, she was startled to find that the room around her was rapidly growing darker, her fingers digging into the surface of the book she still held in her lap as though she truly believed she could keep it close if she did so. In next to no time at all, she could not see a thing, her lips opening in a silent cry of protest as even the book fell away from her grasp, and she was catapulted back into the waking world with a sharp intake of air…

…

"Easy—easy, you're alright," An unfamiliar voice implored, the sound only increasing Lacie's panic as she registered the sound of a shrill beeping coming from somewhere off to her left. She could feel her fingers digging into what felt like the thin fabric of a blanket that seemed to be covering her legs, effectively stopping her from swinging them over the edge of the bed to make her escape. She could even feel the faint tug of what had to be an IV line pulling at the skin of her hand as she struggled to right herself, and get her bearings. But what she did not expect to feel—what startled her past all thought of rational behavior, and had her wrenching away as though the thought of any sort of restraint terrified her beyond belief, was the sudden sensation of a warm hand coming to rest atop her own, her gaze snapping towards that hand for the briefest of moments, before she was forcing herself to look the man who had reached to stall her movements in the eye, and biting back the instinctive jolt of apprehension that his appearance provoked in favor of asking the question that had risen to her mind almost as soon as she had discovered she was awake.

"Where the hell is my mother?"

…


	8. Standing Still

"Where the hell is my mother?"

…

"She's fine," The man replied, the almost detached nature of the words hardly proving reassuring as Lacie struggled to force herself into a seated position, and winced as the act caused the IV attached to her arm by clear tape to pull at her skin in a way that was not at all comfortable, "You need to stay still."

"I need to be with my mother," Lacie disagreed, reaching down to tug at the tubing that was holding her back, only to recoil once again as the man who was seated in the chair beside her bed reached out to stop her in her tracks.

"You're not doing her any good forgoing your own treatment to be with her, Miss Kessler."

"I don't think that's really your call."

"It may not be. But I'm going to make it, anyway," The man insisted, his hold upon Lacie's forearm tightening just a bit, even in spite of the fact that the gesture had her eyes flashing in defiance almost immediately in response, "Stay. Please."

"Why do you care so much about it, anyway?"

"Maybe I just don't want to be the one to have to tell your cousin you ended up hurt, and I didn't do a thing to stop it."

"You really care how Nick feels?"

"Why wouldn't I? I did make sure you weren't arrested for something you can't even remember."

Momentarily rendered speechless by the confession, Lacie did not even bother to attempt tugging her arm away from the man's lingering grasp, her gaze dropping to the fabric of the blanket covering her legs for a moment in the hopes that it would aid her in gathering her thoughts. It didn't make any sense for this man to go to such lengths to ensure her freedom, when he didn't even know a thing about her at all. Not even when she considered what his working relationship with Nick may have been like, prior to her arrival in Portland, and the chaos that had ensued. But of course, in spite of her lingering apprehension over what, exactly, this man's motives may have been, Lacie also knew she would have been a fool to not appreciate what he had done, regardless, her gaze once again lifting to meet his own as she cleared her throat in hopes her voice would not sound quite as scratchy when she replied.

"You like him, then."

"He's a good detective."

"And covering for me on his behalf will keep him that way?"

Something in Lacie's remark must have been a bit too close to home, given the way her companion's features seemed to tighten momentarily, before resettling into the indifferent expression he had possessed for the entirety of their interactions, thus far. For a moment, she honestly thought he would choose to simply leave her on her own, the only sound in the room being the steady beep of the monitor attached to her frame tracking her vitals. He had already withdrawn his hand from her arm, the sudden absence of that contact giving her leave to shiver as though it had been the only source of warmth she possessed. But before Lacie could say or do anything to attempt to amend her former accusation, she found the effort rendered futile, her gaze tracking her would-be companion's movements as he stood to his full height, both hands seeking refuge inside trouser pockets while he regarded her for one final moment of silence, and she was forced to do what she could to avoid flinching back beneath the weight of such an unreadable gaze.

"Covering for you was the only way to give you what you seem to want so much you would risk your own life."

"What?"

"You can't protect your mother from a jail cell, Miss Kessler."

"And you care about whether or not I can protect my mother?"

"If I didn't, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

"Why?" Lacie demanded, aware that she was perhaps pressing her luck, if the man's expression was anything to go by, and yet finding herself completely incapable of stopping herself, regardless, "You don't owe us anything. We're-we're nothing to you."

"If you really believed that, you wouldn't even ask the question."

Aware that he was right, whether she truly wanted to admit to such a thing or not, Lacie pursed her lips and remained almost stubbornly silent in the wake of her companion's remark, her fingers picking idly at the tape securing the IV tubing to her skin for want of anything else to do. She could not explain it. Why the idea of the man's gaze upon her had her feeling almost as though she could crawl out of her skin, despite the fact that he had done nothing out of the ordinary to prove himself a threat since the time she had regained consciousness. But something in the way he seemed to be observing her, as she sat there, as if even her simple movements in the hospital bed were something that could provide insight into her character had her chewing worriedly at her lower lip, her gaze dropping to where her fingertips rested against her arm for a moment before she forced herself to speak once again.

"I suppose I should thank you. For-for what you did."

"That might be appreciated."

"Seriously? That's how you're going to play this?"

"Is there another way you would rather have it go?"

"Well, last time I looked, it seemed gratitude that was asked for was far less sincere than if it came about from someone's own free will."

"Were you really going to be sincere, anyway?" The man inquired, one brow lifting just a bit, though the rest of his expression hardly faltered at all. It would have been a lie for Lacie to pretend that his remark had not aggravated her. That she was not feeling remarkably akin to someone who had been backed into a corner in every way possible despite never once leaving her hospital bed. But still, she somehow forced herself to tamp down on the instinctive vitriol that wanted so badly to break free in response to not only her concern over her mother, but the very real fear of what had happened to cause her to be in a hospital bed herself, a shaky breath escaping as she squared her shoulders and forced herself to look at the man head-on before she replied.

"It might be more sincere if I knew who I was thanking."

"You already know that, Miss Kessler."

"I know your title. Not your name. There's a difference."

"Do you really want to know?"

"If you really believed that I didn't, you wouldn't have asked the question."

In response to her admittedly reckless quip, Lacie half expected the man to retort back in kind, or at the very least to simply turn on a heel and leave her to her own devices, rather than engage her in further conversation. It had not escaped her notice that this was not a man to be trifled with. That pride, amongst other things she could not even begin to comprehend, seemed to be the driving force behind the majority of his actions, thus far. But in direct contrast to what she had anticipated his reaction to be, Lacie found herself honestly taken aback by the sharp sound of what might have been a brief concession to a laugh, her entire body freezing in shock, though she still did not miss the slight shake of the head he gave, as though in honest disbelief before he spoke.

"Sean Renard."

Nodding by way of acknowledgement, and finding herself honestly surprised by the faint smile that tugged at her lips in response to the simple concession, Lacie remained as still as she dared while the man-Sean-removed one hand from his pocket to run across his features, before turning on a heel and heading towards the door. Though she did not entirely wish to admit it, she was almost reluctant to see him go, now that the tension between them had receded, somewhat. But what she wanted or didn't want seemed to be of very little consequence, of late, and it was with some effort that she suppressed the inquiry she almost let free over where exactly her companion appeared to be going, her lips pursing together to aid in keeping her silence, while she simultaneously became aware of the fact that the man had come to a stop in the doorway of her room, turning to regard her once more for a moment until he broke the silence between them once more.

"Do I have your word that you'll stay put long enough for me to let your cousin know you're awake?"

"I suppose," Lacie relented, once again surprising herself with the slight smile that toyed with her lips, though her misgivings over the man's true motives still remained. Some small part of her knew that further encounters with him would not be all that different from playing with fire, and given her track record in Portland thus far, she might just end up coming away burned. But even in spite of that awareness, Lacie could not entirely suppress the almost instinctive need to know more about the man who seemed so interested in her own well-being, her eyes meeting his for just long enough to note the brief nod he gave in recognition of her promise before he slipped through the door, and disappeared down the hallway beyond.

No matter her feelings on the man and his insistence that she remained where she was, Lacie did her best to simply keep to her word, knowing that if she did not, whatever tentative truce that had arisen between them would be gone.

…

"She awake?" Hank asked, watching as his partner stowed his cell phone back inside his back pocket, and nodded once in confirmation of his suspicion, before replying in turn.

"She is. The Captain's with her, now."

"That why you're looking like you'd rather be anywhere else but here?"

"It might be a part of it," Nick admitted, frowning a bit in the wake of the uncertainty he felt over the idea of Lacie spending any amount of time with Renard, particularly as he knew she would likely be far safer in his company than she would have been with anyone else the precinct might have to offer. He was still far more troubled than he cared to admit regarding the idea of someone deliberately setting out to harm Marie, or Lacie, when neither of them had ever done anything to provoke the act on their own. But thus far, the attempt to track down the woman responsible had yielded relatively little in the way of promising results, the reality of it all causing Nick's jaw to work convulsively for a moment or two before he gathered the wherewithal to address Hank's obviously skeptical expression first-hand, "She was terrified of him, when we were at the precinct, Hank."

"He give her any reason to be?"

"Nothing that I noticed."

"Maybe she's starting to remember what happened? Got scared of what he might find out?"

"No, I don't think it's that, either."

"Then what, man? What would have her so spooked of a man she doesn't even know?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Nick said, following after Hank as he turned to head back towards the car, and sliding into the passenger seat while his partner took the liberty of doing the same after opening the driver's side door, "And then there's the matter of why he took an interest in helping, to start with."

"I've been wondering about that myself," Hank confessed, throwing the car in drive, and pulling out of the parking lot they had come to in next to no time at all, "Maybe he just did it to give you a hand."

"Except that it seems like it's more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's never allowed helping any one of us working under him to get in the way of a proper investigation."

"That your way of saying Lacie's actually done what you're trying to take the blame for?"

"Hank-"

"It's just an honest question, man. Nothing more than that."

"Well it isn't my way of saying that at all," Nick assured, noting that Hank appeared to be sure enough of his position on the road headed back towards the hospital to risk a glance his way, though the older man rather mercifully did not seem capable of reading any duplicity in his expression despite the effort, "I mean it, Hank. It's not."

"You sure about that?"

"I am."

"Alright then. But you can't blame me for asking," Hank relented, aware of the slight scoff Nick gave him in response, and choosing to ignore it in favor of going on, "She gonna be okay, then?"

"Who, Lacie?"

"Yeah."

"Looks that way. Think you could do me a favor, though?"

"Depends on the favor you're asking about."

"Would you consider letting me be the one to ask Lacie about the woman that attacked her?" Nick asked, glancing over towards his partner while the older man kept his gaze resolutely on the road, and finding himself relieved to note that his request was met with no change in Hank's expression, save for the slightest hint of understanding in his eyes as they flicked his way once more.

"I think I could do that. But you know as well as I do that if what she says has any connection to what happened with her, and your aunt earlier tonight, we're gonna need to pursue it."

"I know that, Hank."

"Then I'd say you have yourself a deal," The older man agreed, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue for a moment, as he mulled over how best to suggest what he had to say, next. He was well aware of precisely what Nick's feelings were regarding the young woman who still seemed to strike him as someone to keep an eye on, her lack of any recollection over what had transpired to land her in her current predicament seeming suspect no matter how many times his partner may insist that she would not deceive them. But regardless of how he knew pressing the matter as far as it pertained to his own doubts over Lacie's honesty was perhaps the least helpful thing he could do in the current situation, Hank would have been a fool to pretend he was not prepared to do precisely that, regardless.

"I know you trust her, Nick. I know you do. But you have to think about whether protecting her from whatever this is can end up doing her more harm than good, too."

Whether Nick chose to believe him or not, Hank knew better than most exactly the kind of damage exerting too much effort to protect someone could do, and exactly how easy it was for those efforts could backfire, when not handled in the right way.

…

Some time later, though a part of her could hardly even believe she had managed to convince the nurse assigned to take care of her to agree to such a thing, Lacie found herself seated in a wheelchair at her mother's bedside, the hand that was not still connected to the IV tubing leading to the pole that had been wheeled in beside her clutching Marie's as though it were a lifeline. The older woman still had not awakened since the incident that seemed to have started this entire debacle that they now found themselves in, her body lying still in the hospital bed, despite the reassurance of the monitors hooked up to nearly every inch of her frame that indicated she was still breathing on her own. It would have been a gross understatement had Lacie attempted to say seeing her mother like this, suddenly so small and helpless when before she had always been a force to be reckoned with was not jarring, her teeth digging into her lower lip so fiercely that she could almost ignore the stinging sensation that had taken up residence at the corners of her eyes.

But of course almost as soon as the realization came to mind, the young woman found her resolve wavering, the weight of a warm hand coming to rest upon her shoulder to deliver a small squeeze forcing her to shut her eyes in the hopes that she could somehow find a way to collect herself before the newcomer could gather that anything was amiss, at all.

"How're you holding up?"

"Fine," Lacie responded, forcing her eyes open once again as she realized Nick had moved to take the empty seat beside her wheelchair, and regarding him for a moment in silence before going on, "She's still-she hasn't woken up."

"I know. But she'll be alright, Lace. I need you to believe that."

"I want to."

"But?" Nick pressed, aware of how his cousin seemed to instinctively drop her eyes to her lap in favor of continuing to look him in the eye, and choosing to reach out to place his hand atop her own where she still clutched Marie's, in response, "You know you can tell me anything. Anything at all."

"I know that, Nick."

"Then why don't you?"

"Because if-if I do-if I really tell you what I'm thinking, Nick, I'm terrified that I'll never be able to breathe, again," Lacie confessed, despising the manner in which her voice had cracked over the confession, and yet choosing to go on even in spite of how she knew she would not likely be capable of restraining her apparently wayward emotions for much longer, "I can't lose her. I can't, when-when I don't even know-"

"When you don't even know how to explain anything that's happened since you arrived?"

"Do you? Know how to explain it, I mean," Lacie questioned, her gaze searching her cousin's features for any hint of an attempt at keeping the truth from her, and finding that she could find none at first glance. She would have been a fool to pretend that she was blind to how often he had trended towards keeping her in the dark at times, when doing so seemed the best way to keep her safe as they grew up. But now, she was not about to let his feelings about protecting her prevent her from knowing every bit as much as she suspected he did, himself as far as their current situation was concerned, and so Lacie forced herself to meet Nick's gaze head-on, her free hand that was not still held beneath his own dashing at an errant tear before it could gain the opportunity to trace a path down her cheek, "Nick, if you do, please. I need to know."

"I know you do. And I'm going to tell you, Lacie, I promise."

"But you can't, right now."

"Not until we see how much you can remember about the woman who did this to you," Nick confirmed, aware of how Lacie's expression almost immediately fell in response to the realization that she would have to be in the dark just a little while longer, and giving her hand one final squeeze in hopes of reassuring her that he did not intend to deliberately manipulate her out of learning the truth, "I want to find her, Lace-wing. I'm going to bring her down."

Whether Lacie could fully believe that he intended to be forthcoming with her about what her mother had been telling them prior to her blackout, something in the way Nick was looking at her after he said the words told her that she could trust him with everything she had when it came to finding a reason for the attempt on her mother's life.

She supposed, in a way, that might just have to be good enough.

…


	9. Comfort Care

"I had-I had fallen asleep," Lacie began, the fingers of one hand massaging idly at her temple while she pursed her lips for a moment and tried to force her mind to sift through the fog that seemed so very reluctant to allow her free of its grip while Nick sat beside her, his expression indicating nothing but the utmost patience while she attempted to give him the answers he needed, "I know I shouldn't have, but for some reason I just couldn't help it, and then the next thing I knew, she was there."

"The woman who attacked you."

"Yeah."

"Did she say something? Do anything that caused you to wake up?" Nick pressed, watching his cousin's expression as carefully as he dared, and noting that her brow had furrowed in response to his inquiry, as though she did remember something she was not all that certain she wished to disclose, "Lacie, if she did, I need to know."

"She-no. She didn't say anything. I was just-I was just awake, and she was there."

"You're sure?"

"I am. She barely noticed me. Like she was totally focused on Mom, and I didn't even exist."

"Until you tried to stop her."

"Until I tried to stop her," Lacie confirmed, swallowing past the lump that had taken root at the back of her throat, and doing her best to force down the lingering sense of panic that trying to recall what had happened had provoked, "I saw what she had in that syringe, and I just-"

"You knew it wasn't medicine."

"Not even close."

"Can you remember anything else about her? Clothes, or-or anything distinctive about her physical appearance?" Nick asked, watching as Lacie's eyes once again trailed back towards her mother, as though some sort of invisible magnetic pull all but refused to allow her to look away. He understood the need, of course, given all that had happened, and the depth of the relationship between mother and daughter that even he could not fully grasp, even after spending so much time around them growing up. And it was precisely that level of connection that had him more than a little worried about what stood to happen when the extent of Marie's illness finally took its toll in a more permanent fashion that prompted Nick to clear his throat, the sound succeeding in allowing Lacie's green gaze to snap back towards him as he addressed her once again, "Lacie if there is anything you can tell me about her, I really need to know."

"There's not. I'm really sorry, Nick, but other than a vague recollection that she was ridiculously attractive, I can't tell you a thing."

"Okay. It's okay."

"No, it's really not," Lacie countered, allowing her head to drop into her hands, and emitting a soft groan as she opted for dragging her fingers through tousled hair in evidence of her frustration, "It's like every time I even try to get more detail, a wall slams up in my mind and I'm stuck."

"Don't do that to yourself. It'll come back," Nick assured, taking note of the obvious doubt that was so apparent in Lacie's expression, and yet choosing to press forward, regardless, "I'm not holding you responsible for this, Lace. I never would."

"Maybe you should."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means if I had been faster, maybe none of this would have happened in the first place," Lacie insisted, once again turning her attention towards Marie's still motionless frame, and chewing at her lower lip for a moment before going on, "I can't-Nick, I don't know how to protect her from this."

"From what?"

"From what this disease is doing to her."

"I don't think that's anywhere close to something you need to be responsible for," Nick began, holding out a hand to waylay Lacie's almost immediate attempt to protest, and doing what he could to prevent the absolutely broken expression that passed across her features from stopping him in his tracks, "You've done your best, Lace. That's all anyone can ever do."

"I don't think my best was enough."

"Would you trust me if I said I was going to have to agree to disagree with you, there?"

"Would it matter if I said I had no idea?" Lacie asked, hating how desperate her words sounded, despite the fact that she was very obviously powerless to make them come across any different. It would have been a lie to pretend that all of this was not pushing her to the breaking point, the inability to remember key events that might help to make sense of what was going on only paling in comparison to the reality of her mother's current situation. Try though she might to ignore it, Lacie could not seem to ignore the lingering trepidation that seemed to suggest this was just the beginning of the end. And although she was hardly one to give much thought to superstition, the fact that their trip to Portland seemed to have triggered something she could hardly even begin to understand forced Lacie to consider the fact that perhaps, just this once, superstition might have the right of things, after all, "I'm sorry, Nick. Really, I am, but I just can't help but feel like all of this is going to make me lose her for good."

"I know what you mean," Nick admitted, following his cousin's gaze towards Marie, and frowning as he tried to ensure his expression did not give any hint of the fact that he, himself, had the feeling that Lacie's suspicions were not that far from the mark, "Can you promise me one thing, though?"

"I guess that would depend on what this 'one thing' might be."

"Promise me that if you do start to remember anything about the woman, or what happened the night you two arrived, you'll tell me, first?"

"I think I can do that," Lacie agreed, somewhat relieved at the prospect of having Nick's inherent trust, whether or not she believed she fully deserved it in the first place. It would have been a lie to pretend she could fully fathom why he appeared to have such faith in her, when everything that had happened thus far seemed to indicate he should be doing the precise opposite. But as Lacie watched Nick stand from the chair he had occupied immediately beside her, she found herself suddenly possessed by a resurgence of the apprehension she had tried so valiantly to squash down, her hand reaching for his own almost on instinct as she tried to ignore the slight tremble in her next words, "You're-you're leaving?"

"Only for a minute," Nick promised, squeezing Lacie's hand before gently extricating himself from her grasp, his other hand diving into his back pocket for his cell phone as he turned and headed towards the partially opened door of Marie's hospital room.

"I just need to make a really quick phone call, and then I'll be right back."

If Nick knew anything about Lacie at all, it was that if he could not succeed in settling her misgivings himself, there was perhaps only one other person that could…

…

Lingering in front of the doors that would lead to the hospital lobby, Rick fished his insistently beeping cell phone from the pocket of his jacket, a faint grin twitching at the corners of his mouth as he recognized the name flashing across the screen, and punched the button to accept the call in almost the same motion. He had been expecting this, of course, which was part of the reason he had scratched out the hastily penned note telling his mother where he would be, before driving through the night to get to Portland, himself. And so, in spite of the fact that he knew, on some level, that his sudden appearance might provoke more suspicion than if he had simply waited for the call that had just come through, Rick found that he could not even come close to regretting the spur of the moment decision, his frame shifting until his back was to the hospital while he lifted the phone to his ear, and spoke before the man on the other end of the line could do so, himself.

"Yeah."

"Rick? This is Nick. Nick Burkhardt. Lacie's cousin?"

"I remember," Rick supplied, one hand lifting to drag through already wind-tousled hair as he took up the act of pacing just a bit, for want of anything else to do to quell the eagerness he felt to see his best friend first hand, "What's up?"

"I uh-look, there's no easy way to say this so I'm just going to come out and say it," Nick stated, his hesitation obvious even in spite of the fact that Rick could not see his face for himself, "Lacie's in the hospital. So's her mom. She needs you."

"I guess that explains the police outside the door, then."

"The-what?"

"I'm already here," Rick confessed, turning to glance over his shoulder at the two uniformed officers stationed outside the door, and noting that they had apparently stopped their intent observation of his own movements in favor of allowing the elderly couple to pass through the doors unimpeded instead, "When I kept calling her and she never picked up I got a bit concerned."

"You're here? At the hospital?"

"Yep. Think you could come down and give me a legitimate reason to get through those doors?"

"They won't let you through?"

"Nope. Apparently an out of state driver's license and no last name match to anyone currently admitted seems a bit suspicious."

"Okay. Okay, I'll be right down," Nick said, whatever questions he may have had regarding the suddenness of Rick's appearance apparently overridden by the realization that convincing the officers to allow him to pass was far more important than what had allowed him to track Lacie and her mother here to begin with, "Hang tight, okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere."

After disconnecting the call, Rick stowed his phone back inside his jacket pocket, his feet carrying him towards a nearby bench so that he could take a seat and wait for Nick to arrive. The presence of the officers that had denied him entry had set of warning bells, indicating that whatever Lacie and her mother had found themselves tangled up in was nothing to make light of. And it would have been a lie to pretend he was not almost overwhelmingly anxious to get to Lacie's side, his eyes straying towards the hospital doors once again as he willed Nick to appear sooner, rather than later.

If his best friend was in danger, there was nowhere else Rick would rather be.

…

"How'd you get here so fast?" Nick inquired, watching as his cousin's best friend unfolded himself from his seated position on a bench not that far from the hospital doors, and suppressing a good deal of surprise that the scrawny kid that had glued himself to Lacie's side when she entered fourth grade had all but transformed into a different person entirely since the last time they had seen one another in the flesh, "Lacie didn't mention anything about you knowing where she was."

"My uncle's a cop, remember?"

"Guess I'd forgotten about that. He track her down?"

"That's about the gist of it," Rick nodded, reaching a hand out as Nick did the same, and noticing the lingering suspicion inherent in the detective's gaze as they shook, and dropped their hands back to their sides almost immediately thereafter, "I know it sounds a bit sketchy, but it's not-"

"It's not like her to not take your calls."

"Definitely not."

"You did the right thing," Nick admitted, aware of the obvious surprise that had taken over Rick's features, and turning back to the hospital so that the two of them could make their way inside before going on, "Unorthodox or not, I'm honestly glad I didn't have to wait for you to drive here after I called."

"Things are that bad?"

"They're getting there, yeah. And if I'm juggling an active case with visits to the hospital-"

"You need someone else here to watch her back," Rick inferred, unable to resist the urge to send a faint smirk and a nod towards the officers at the door as he passed through, whether or not such a thing was wise, given the obvious need Nick felt to keep Lacie and her mother under guard, "What exactly happened to land them here?"

"We were attacked the night they arrived."

"What?"

"Yeah. I'm still trying to put the pieces together as far as the motivation this guy had to track them down to begin with."

"He still alive?"

"That's the other part of the problem," Nick informed, watching Rick's expression carefully as the two of them waited for the elevator he had just summoned with a press of a button on the lobby wall to arrive, and hedging his bets over how best to proceed. He was all but certain that Lacie would want to tell Rick herself about the situation, and her own lack of effective recollection when it came to remembering what she had done, herself. But inasmuch as he realized he might be inadvertently betraying his cousin's trust by disclosing anything before she had the chance to do so for herself, Nick was also very well aware of the fact that Rick would need all the details he could get if he had any chance of helping her where Nick could not.

"He's dead?"

"Yeah. And that's just the start of where it gets a little messy."

"Tell me she didn't-that Lacie didn't-"

"She did."

"Jesus," Rick breathed, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he dragged a hand across his face, his entire posture going rigid as he followed Nick into the elevator, and watched as the older man pressed the button that would take them to the appropriate floor, "How's she-how's she doing with all of that?"

"That's just it. She doesn't remember."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing," Nick repeated, shoving both hands inside his jeans pockets, and watching the lighted numbers on the elevator wall track upward as they drew nearer to their destination, "And that's where I was hoping you might be able to help."

"You think she'll tell me something she wouldn't tell you?"

"I think every time I question her, a part of her gets caught up in the fact that I might be asking as a cop, even if she doesn't realize that's what's happening at the time. And you-"

"I'd just be asking as a friend."

"That's the idea, yeah."

"Well, I'm more than willing to give it a shot," Rick began, leaning against the railing at the back of the elevator, and regarding his companion for a moment before his own concern over his ability to do what had been requested forced him to speak once again, "She's not-she isn't facing jail time if I mess this up, is she?"

"No. No, I've already covered that."

"You mind me asking how?"

"I said it was me who killed him."

"Wow."

"I wasn't going to let her go to lock up," Nick explained, though everything in Rick's expression all but screamed that there was no need to justify his actions, at least not as far as this particular situation was concerned, "Not when-"

"When she might be facing her mom's final moments, and you know she'd want to be by her side."

In lieu of a verbal reply, it seemed, all Nick could manage in that moment was a curt nod, relief at the ease with which Rick seemed capable of surmising the reality of the situation at odds with the very real suspicion that, despite how he had attempted to reassure Lacie that this was not the end, he was all too likely to have been wrong. He would have been a fool to pretend he had the first clue regarding how he was to hold Lacie together in the event that Marie did finally succumb to the extent of her disease, and the trauma she had so recently endured. And although some small part of him still hoped that his presence alone might have been enough, Nick knew all too well that he had been right to call Rick, now…

If anything, the expression upon his cousin's face as she turned to note their approach not that long after they had exited the elevator, green eyes wide with shock as she regarded him for only a moment, before turning towards Rick only proved that he had made the right call.

Just a glance at how easily she seemed to sag into his embrace gave Nick more relief than he truly felt he deserved.

…

Some time later, in spite of her surprise that he had even managed to convince her to do so in the first place, Lacie found herself curled up against Rick's side in her own hospital bed, the sensation of the steady rise and fall of his chest almost succeeding in luring her to sleep. She was still more than a little stunned that he had even made the trip to Portland to begin with, particularly as she had honestly forgotten about the need to return his calls in the wake of everything that had happened in what seemed to be only a brief period of time. But that surprise did not mean she did not feel abundantly grateful for his presence, anyway, her hand seeking his own so that their fingers could thread together with a practiced ease before she was tilting her head back to look him in the eye.

"Mom's going to love seeing you here," She began, aware of the faintest flickers of doubt that passed across his features before he could stop it, and choosing to ignore how that doubt was already etched into her own mind, as well, in favor of going on, "Sometimes I think she likes you better than me."

"Probably because it's true," Rick teased, using the arm that was secured around Lacie's smaller frame to tug her closer, the sensation of a few locks of her hair tickling against his nose as she ducked her head down to avert her gaze bringing a faint smile to his lips as he registered the lingering scent of her usual shampoo, "I'm kind of awesome."

"Wow. Good to know you're not full of yourself, Rick."

"You know you wouldn't have me any other way."

"Do I, though?" Lacie quipped, fixing her attention upon the way in which Rick's fingers seemed to instinctively tighten around her own, and smiling for the first time in what felt like ages as she allowed herself the brief concession of a soft laugh, "I'm not so sure."

"You'd better be. I didn't drive all this way to think you didn't like me anymore."

"That will never happen."

"You sure about that?"

"I'm positive," Lacie promised, squirming just a bit closer towards her friend, and registering the faint chuckle that reverberated through his side as she shivered in spite of her desire to prevent it.

"Cold?"

"Maybe a bit."

"Let me grab that extra blanket on the chair, then," Rick suggested, aware of the soft whine Lacie gave by way of protesting even the smallest separation, and squeezing her hand in hopes that the gesture would reassure her he did not intend to be gone for long. He could practically sense the reluctance in her fingers as her hand slid from his grip so that he could detach himself from her for long enough to get up from the bed and head to the chair for the blanket draped across its back. But just as he had grabbed the cotton fabric, and prepared to turn back towards the bed, Rick caught himself freezing in place, instinct causing his feet to step forward to shield Lacie from view as he noted the sudden appearance of another man standing just inside the doorway to her room.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Funny, I was prepared to ask you the very same thing…"

Whether he could hear the sounds of Lacie shifting behind him until she could rest a cautionary hand against his back or not, Rick was all but determined to do precisely as Nick had asked of him when he had first arrived.

If this man wanted to get to his best friend, he would have to go through him, first.

…


End file.
